Unconditional Bonds
by Makota2112
Summary: When a bond once thought unbreakable shatters who will be left to sweep aside the pieces? Warning MA content, no underagers. Yaoi PiccoloVegeta. If you don't like yaoi or the pairing please go else where. In progress.
1. Chapter 1 Unease

Author's Introduction: Unconditional Bonds was written in the summer of 2001. It was my first piece of postable work and my first contribution to the vast sea of Dragonball Z fanfiction.

Three years later I've picked up the pen, as it were, and have written a sequel to this piece and am currently working on third and final installment. But I feel I should pause and take time to touch base. At the time I wrote this, the concept of a beta was foreign to me as was the notion of damage control. Needless to say, this fic could use some spit and shine. And that's what I've endeavored to do.

I have gone through this with a fine-tooth comb-though I'm sure I've missed some things-and refined some scenes here and there. In other words, this will be basically be the same story but be much more reader friendly. I have also changed some scenes that have just plain annoyed me and have cut the 'fluff factor' in half.

That said, I hope you enjoy this new cleaner version, I know I've enjoyed working on it.

-Makota

(A/N: June 2006) Unfortunately I did not get this finished as soon as I would like and I'm still in the processes of cleaning this fic up. Although this version is much better than the first, this **was** my first piece of fanfiction. As such OCC, unrealistic dialog, and some amateur writing mistakes will mostly likely rear their ugly heads. But I've tried to keep it down to a minimum. Enjoy!

Special thanks to Pixelgoddess for beta-ing this edition.

Disclaimer: I don't own, please don't sue.

Rating: NC-17 Yaoi (What don't like yaoi? Then you best leave now.)

Pairing: Piccolo/Vegeta (odd pairing yes...but perhaps not as odd as you would think)

Unconditional Bonds

By Makota

(Second Edition)

Chapter One: Unease

"What the hell?"

He opened the other drawer, it, like the first, was empty.

"Hmm," he muttered, "she must be re-organizing or some crap like that."

With a shrug he walked over to the closet. Upon opening it he frowned; row after row of Bulma's dresses were draped neatly, but there was a small void where his much smaller wardrobe once hung.

It was at this point that Vegeta grew irritated. He had just returned from a small retreat in the mountains; just a couple of days to train in peace without the constant distractions from his mate and son. He didn't do it often, but every once in awhile he felt it necessary to escape from the confines of domestic life.

Although, he had to admit, Bulma hadn't interrupted his training nearly as much in the past couple of months. He had figured her work was keeping her busy. She was constantly running off to business meetings here of late leaving nothing but a hurried excuse in her wake; "Sorry, babe, I've got a meeting with the blah blah of the blah blah corporation, do you mind watching Trunks? Dinner's in the fridge, all you have to do is warm it up. Okay thanks, bye" And then she'd take off without waiting for a reply. He didn't mind of course. However, he acted like he did, sneering and grumbling all the way, but in reality it didn't bother him...well usually. These business meetings were becoming all too frequent.

Vegeta didn't pretend to understand the intricacies of running one of the largest corporations in the world, and he didn't bother to learn. He found it tedious, and to be honest, rather beneath him. Long ago, Bulma had attempted to explain it to him, but the only thing she had succeeded at was nearly putting him to sleep. It wasn't that he couldn't grasp what she was saying; he simply found it useless. "What's the point of competing with rival businesses?" he had asked, "Why not just destroy them?" Bulma didn't take kindly to that question. He sighed, well whatever floated her boat. Yet, now he was growing frustrated. All of his clothes were missing. In fact, now as he looked around the massive bedroom, all of his belongings were gone.

"Okay this isn't funny."

"No, its not," a voice said behind him.

He spun around. Odd, he hadn't sensed Bulma in the room.

She stood there in the doorway, her posture rigid with her slender arms folded in front of her like some sort of Egyptian relic. But it was her facial expression that threw him off. Her mouth was set in a tight line, which was a dead give away she was angry, yet her nose wasn't crinkled, so perhaps she was worried. No, the prince considered, this wasn't the case either; her eyes were downcast.

And that was the factor that had perplexed him the most. Her eyes had never been downcast before, at least not like that. It almost looked…what? Sad? Hurt? It was impossible to tell.

Giving up on his attempt to decipher his mate's current mood, he cocked his head slightly, ready to demand what she had done with his things, but stopped short. He felt uneasy in her stoic presence. He suddenly wondered what he had done this time to set her off. She had known he was going off for a couple of days. He even told her around what time of day to expect his return. So why was she upset? And then the thought dawned on him that perhaps something had happened with Trunks.

Yet, he knew this wasn't the case. If his son were in danger he would have felt it. Granted, he hadn't seen the boy when he came in a few minutes ago, so just to be safe he quickly did a ki search. No, Trunks was just fine, in fact he was with Goten over at Krillen's place.

Vegeta stared at his mate a few moments to see if she would say anything. It wasn't like her to stand silent, if something was wrong he was the first to know.

This wasn't by choice, of course. She was a master at ranting, and unfortunately he was the one she usually would rant to. But over the years he had learned to block her out and simply nod. It was a conditioned reaction that had taken hundreds of pointless arguments for him to hone. It wasn't that he didn't care to listen to what she had to say, but the smallest things would set her off. No matter how enormous or petty the situation, the reaction was the same; a broken nail or a loved one's death, both necessitated a lament worthy of Greece. So she was dramatic. He had learned to live with it, but now she wasn't ranting. Something wasn't right.

"Bulma, what's wrong?"

The question seemed to throw her off guard as her blue eyes shot up quickly then went back to the carpet. He wondered at her again, _What? Was she expecting me to yell at her?_ This was confusing him more and more by the minute. Her eyes stayed glued to the floor. Out of morbid curiosity he followed her line of vision to the carpet to see what was mesmerizing her so. Nothing there.

"Bulma?" he repeated.

Finally she took a deep breath.

"We need to talk, Vegeta."

He felt an involuntary knot form in his stomach. Her voice was cold, mechanical almost. In eleven years he had never heard her speak in such a way, he didn't think her capable of it.

"Okay" was all he could say to her, the feeling of unease intensifying.

"Vegeta, there are some things I need to tell you."

He wondered why she kept using his name. He didn't like it associated with that icy tone, not from her.

"Such as?"

"I think you should sit down."

The statement left no room for argument. He hated to be told what to do, but without even a questioning thought he obediently walked past her and sat on the bed. _'This isn't right,' _his mind kept repeating, '_something is terribly wrong'._

Then it struck him; Bulma had gone to the doctor's office a week ago after mentioning that she wasn't feeling well. They had taken some lab tests and this would be about the time they would have the results.

The Prince of Saiyans felt his stomach turn, _By the Gods, what if something's wrong?_' he thought frantically, _What if she has some incurable disease…oh Kami, what if it's cancer? Doesn't that__ run in her family?_ He couldn't remember.

"Are you okay? You're not sick are you?" he asked quickly, his voice filled with concern.

Again, he had managed to surprise her. Her eyes flickered, and suddenly filled with tears. She had seldom heard him like this before and was startled by his demeanor. She expected him to be cranky or dismissive, perhaps that's what she felt he should be like. It wasn't often that he showed outright concern. Her tears, however, went unshed. _It's now or never,'_ she reasoned with herself, squaring her shoulders.

"Vegeta, I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened, and a wave of relief washed over him. She was okay. So, he was going to be a father a second time around.

"Well this is good news, isn't it? Why are you-

He never had a chance to finish his sentence.

"It's not yours."


	2. Chapter 2 Anguish

Chapter Two: Anguish

"That heartless fucking bitch!"

He ran. It felt like he had been running for days, and perhaps he had been. Time seemed to be something that didn't exist anymore. Reality itself was foggy-shattered. His whole world had crumbled around his ears in a matter of moments. The conversation was a blur to him. She had spoken so quickly, as if it would hurt him less.

"Met him 7 months ago...associates...didn't expect it to happen...just a one time thing... turned out to be more..."

He shook his head and swallowed the searing emotions that threatened to break him.

"Must keep running."

His legs pumped even faster beneath him. He pushed his ki level down; he couldn't allow them to find him. Bulma's words rattled in his brain as he pushed himself even further.

"When you died, I couldn't handle it. The thought that you could go at any time, that you would rush forth without thinking-without regard to us. I need something more stable...I need something more reliable...I need something more affectionate...I need...I need..I need ...I need..."

Vegeta's jaw tightened in rage.

To hell that he had not just died in battle, that he **sacrificed** himself in order to save this stupid mud ball of a planet and even went so far as to help wish it back. To hell that he had sacrificed his life to save **her** and their **son**. To hell that he had changed his ways for her, given up the opportunity to travel the galaxy and pirate other planets just to be with her, live with her. He even went so far as to ally himself with his greatest rival- that happened to be her best friend- just to please her. To hell with himself, he apparently didn't give her what _**he**, the nameless one,_ could.

Vegeta knew he wasn't the most romantic guy in the galaxy, but he loved his mate, she knew he did. He didn't say it often, but she knew, didn't she? What had he done to deserve this? How could she just throw away eleven years?

Her mockingly concerned tone floated through his head once more;

"I do care for you, but I was young and attracted to the bad-ass' attitude, ...didn't think about the consequences...unhappy...stuck...but I do care for you..."

"Unhappy..unhappy...unhappy...Stuck...stuck...stuck." Her words echoed in his mind, crashing like thunder in his skull.

"Run faster, Vegeta," he told himself as the scenery blurred around him, "Run and it won't hurt...run from the pain"

Branches and thorns tore at his pants, the same he had worn while training in solitude in the mountains. He had trained for two short days then had come home, just as he said he would. But first things first; hit the showers. But when he went upstairs to his, her's, their, now not his, bedroom to get some clothes, all of his belongings were gone, packed up. She had sent his things to, of all places, Kakarott's.

He was told that he could stay there until he could get on his feet. They didn't mind, in fact they'd be glad to have him. How dare she! The last place in the world he wanted to be right now was that fool and his naggy wife's home. And to make matters worse he was there. Kakarott, that low-born Saiyan who dared to be stronger than him, the rightful prince of all the Saiyan race.

The rightful Prince of Saiyans who was now nothing. Yes, Kakarott was there. Apparently, Bulma was afraid of the reaction she might have gotten and had brought him for safety purposes. _What a slap in the face. I'm the one who was stabbed, if anything I was the one who should have brought someone for protection... As if I'd ever hurt her. She knew better.'_ His face contorted as the night settled. _I had to sit there and let her tear me apart_ _while Kakarott listened outside the door. I couldn't even allow myself to react. Here she was ripping me to shreds and I had to sit and act like she wasn't hurting me, all because my greatest rival was outside the door…while all the while, she was killing me.'_

The only thing he had been able to choke out;

"What's his name?"

"It doesn't matter, Vegeta" _You unfeeling_ _bastard._

He felt his eyes water.

"Do you love him?"

Without hesitation, "Yes, very much so."

He imagined he could literally hear the sound of his world implode upon itself. The Saiyan's body racked with agony as Bulma's voice droned on in his memory.

"He's moving in. He loves me. Much more than you ever could. He completes me in a way you couldn't." Every single word cut him in a way that no blade could. "He'll be a great father."

It was here that fury erupted from him.

"To his own brat, perhaps. But not to **my** son!"

"Trunks is not **your** son, Vegeta, he's **our** son!" Bulma's angry voice screeched, hurting the ears. "And I think its best that he stay with Krillen for awhile until everything gets settled. Besides, _he,_" the oh so great provider who shall not be named, "is great with Trunks."

"WHAT! You let that bastard around Trunks!-And I'll be damned if I let you leave my son at -

It was here that Goku made his entrance.

"Now, Vegeta, calm down. I know this is upsetting news, but think of Trunks. He doesn't need this in his life-

"HE doesn't need this! What about me, huh," he screamed at the younger Saiyan, ready for a fight, "You're right, Kakarott, he doesn't need this, he doesn't need his mother to be a low slung whore!"

"Hey now!" He stepped further into the room, effectively blocking off the prince and the blue-haired woman who had started to cry. "Vegeta," he soothed, "you're over-reacting. You don't know what you're saying."

Vegeta's eyes narrowed dangerously, his lips cracked in an incongruous smile.

"Overreacting, eh? I'll show you overreacting."

Bulma had then rushed from her place to stand in front of Goku, her blue eyes staring him down, swallowing him whole.

"Vegeta don't!"

She had humiliated him, hurt him, destroyed him, and now commanded him. And he obeyed, like he always had. He dropped his offensive stance, his face wavered and cracked.

He said one last thing before throwing a blast at Kakarott's eyes that was intended to temporarily blind him.

"Damn you. Damn you both to the Abyss!"

He threw the blast and flew out of the window, soaring at breakneck speed before landing in some nameless place. Pushing his ki down, he ran through the wilderness, his rage and despair his only fuel. And now here he was, still running.

He considered finding this Mr. Wonderful and killing him, or killing her. The latter thought was just that, a thought, he could never hurt her. But now the notion he entertained the most was killing himself.

"What a coward I am," he chuckled bitterly to himself. He, the proud prince, reduced to running away, reduced to considering the coward's way out. But he had his son to think of. He wouldn't allow this nameless intruder to raise his rightful heir. But perhaps Kakarott was right. The last thing Trunks needed was to be pulled into the middle of this...foolishness.

So he kept on running, not knowing where he was going and not caring. He hadn't eaten or slept in what he thought was a few days. Exhaustion was steadily creeping over him, and it wasn't too long from this point that darkness claimed him.


	3. Chapter 3 A Friend in Need

Chapter Three: A Friend In Need

They had all gathered at Capsule Corporation for brunch: Goku, Chi-chi, Gohan, Videl, Yamcha, Krillen, 18, and Piccolo. Vegeta had been missing for nearly a week now; apparently he was hiding or dead. His ki was undetectable so it was anyone's guess as to his fate. Bulma was extremely distraught over the matter; luckily _Billy_ was there to comfort her.

"Poor Bulma," Chi-Chi sympathized, "this has all been so hard on her." She said this to her hopeful future daughter-in-law, Videl. The girl made a noise in agreement, although she really didn't know who the prince was. So she settled on nodding whenever Chi-Chi went on about how much of a brute Vegeta was or how Bulma should have kicked him out years ago.

The rest of the gang bent over backwards for the frazzled blue-haired woman. All but one, and he stayed in the background with a look on of disgust on his face.

_What a fucking whore,_ Piccolo thought to himself. He had just received the news and wanted to backhand Bulma for her treachery. And that's what he considered it: treachery, pure and simple. True, Vegeta wasn't lovey dovey like this spineless fop who was hanging all over Bulma, but he was a good man.

The green warrior studied the skinny outsider, whom currently had his noodle of an arm draped around the harlot, with a critical eye. _Billy', what kind of name is that? Look at him. He's a pansy if ever I saw. _He was tall, not as tall as himself, but a healthy eight inches taller than Vegeta. Which isn't saying much, without the hair, Vegeta stands about 5 foot 7. But this _Billy_ character looked as if he could be knocked over by a strong breeze. There seemed to be nothing to him, as if his clothes stood up on their own accord. And that mug of his; the Namek cringed. A round face and jovial features were all framed by neatly cut auburn hair. Yet he had an unusually large cleft chin and a pronounced Roman nose that looked as if it had been broken a few times. His hands too, were unnaturally big, as were his feet that were lodged in shoes that could have doubled for pontoon boats.

Piccolo smirked despite himself. The man looked like a walking Picasso painting; mismatched and ugly. But apparently Bulma either found this attractive, or looked past it. In fact, the warrior's initial response upon meeting him was "Wow, you must have one hell of a personality." Billy just laughed; it was an unpleasant braying sound that hurt his ears. He then overheard Chi-Chi commenting on how handsome the _newbie_ was. He shrugged, humans were strange; he never could understand them.

But enough was enough. Vegeta was gone, hiding, hurt, dead, who knows. And no one seemed to care all that much. True, Goku had gone to look for him but he gave up after a couple of days to come back and console Bulma.

_Asshole,_ Piccolo couldn't help but think. And not for the first time he wondered why he considered this group his so-called friends. Well he did consider Vegeta a friend, and a true one at that. Other than Gohan, probably the best one he'd ever had.

Needless to say, the ill-tempered prince and he had a lot in common and occasionally they would spar together. Though, he had to admit, it wasn't much of a sparring session as Vegeta could mop the floor with him. So they usually settled on throwing ki blasts at inanimate objects, or simply sitting silently back to back in a contemplative state. They didn't talk much, which was somewhat of a comfort. Gohan was talkative and Piccolo was not. While he was content to listen to the boy's chatter, it was usually over trivial nothings. When Vegeta spoke it was with purpose and brutal truth. The green warrior admired and respected that. Of course there were the good-natured taunts when sparring, but that went both ways, and Vegeta was more than amused with Piccolo's sharp wit.

It was a solid friendship that had developed slowly over the years. And now his friend was in trouble, and no one was doing a damn thing about it.

He shook his head at the group in disgust, and without warning blasted off towards the sky. Every one looked up in shock, but after a few moments went back to eating their food and talking with their unfortunate, troubled hostess.

He flew…and he flew...and he flew some more. Hours passed. He had first checked out Vegeta's usual training places. Since the prince was trying to hide himself, he knew it was the least likely, but he couldn't afford to take any chances.

After nearly three hours had passed he was becoming antsy, "Damn it, man, where are you?"

He then stopped in mid-flight. "Okay," he reasoned, "if I was wanting to hide from the world were would I go?" He thought about it, keeping in mind that Vegeta's thoughts were probably erratic at the time. If the Saiyan were pushing his ki down he would have to travel on foot, which meant he wouldn't be crossing any oceans. Logically, he had to be within 500 kilometers of Capsule Corp.

Piccolo narrowed his search, and within the hour he could feel a faint ki, but just barely. If he weren't searching as intensely as he had been he never would have picked it up. Yes, there it was but it was much too weak for his liking.

His black eyes searched the heavily forested terrain below. He abruptly dropped from the sky and landed lightly on his feet, his cape billowing out behind him. He fanned his senses out as far as he could and within a couple of minutes he felt the exact location of the dying signature. He moved hurriedly through the forest, seeing along the way several broken branches where something had barreled through without regard or care. And there, in the mud, his eyes focused on a small boot print that could only belong to the Saiyan Prince.

The Namek picked up the pace, moving like liquid across the forest floor. He didn't call out his friend's name, that could have startled him and set him running again or maybe even attack. And Piccolo didn't have any desire to fight Vegeta, especially in the state the prince was in. The Namek's best bet was to sneak up on the distraught warrior. He stopped dead in his tracks and repressed a gasp.

There he was, strewn out face down in a tiny pool, his gloved hand draped over a fallen log. Piccolo wasted no time and ran to his side. He lifted his face from the mire that was slowly drowning him, and turned him gently, cradling him. He was still breathing, but it was shallow and erratic- obstructed. His complexion was deathly pale and he looked gaunt and it was then that the mighty prince's ki began to flicker.

Piccolo's eyes widened in alarm, gently he shook the smaller man's shoulders in an attempt to rouse him.

"Vegeta?"

Nothing.

"Stubborn bastard," he muttered, jostling him more roughly this time. "Wake up."

Nothing.

Piccolo's concern escalated, his shaking becoming more violent.

"Vegeta, this isn't funny. Now wake the fuck up!"

Nothing.

Panic settled on the Namek, he laid the prince down and crossed his hands over the Saiyan's chest in an attempt to pump out any fluid. When this didn't work, he slapped him across the cheek out of desperation.

"Fucking asshole!" he swore loudly, a note of panic in his voice. " I didn't come all the way out here looking for your worthless ass just for you to die! Come on!" Another slap. "WAKE UP!" More pumping, but this time he added some of his ki, which was a gamble as the force could kill him if he wasn't careful. "Damn you!" he cried raising his hand.

With that last forceful smack, the Prince's head jerked sideways and he coughed up a mixture of mud, water, and blood. Piccolo quickly set him upright, and pounded on his back while he hacked up the rest of the liquid that had settled in his lungs. The Prince was on his knees gasping and gagging and finally dry heaving when there was nothing left in his stomach to throw up.

Piccolo crouched behind him, supporting his small frame as it racked with convulsions. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Vegeta took a deep breath and settled back, his body finally relaxing. His dulled black eyes rolled backwards as he leaned against the Namek.

Several minutes past before he realized he was leaning against someone and not something. With a great effort he slowly turned his head to look up at his rescuer. His vision was terribly blurry and all he could really make out was a green blob wearing a white blob.

"Pic..Piccolo?" he gasped.

"Yeah, you stupid ape." He smirked down at him, relieved to hear his voice. "You picked a fine place to pass out; face down in mud puddle. You're not too bright, are you?"

Vegeta blinked up at him dazedly.

Either not realizing he was completely leaning against the Namek or not caring, he settled his head against the other warrior's chest.

"Go away," there was deep breath in between his words. "Leave me be…I'm going back to sleep," his eyes closed.

"Oh the hell you are." Piccolo shook him gently, splashing water on his face from a nearby puddle.

Vegeta moaned and thrashed, coming back to more or less alertness, anger apparent on his face.

"DAMN YOU! FUCKING NAMEK! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"Afraid not."

"I didn't ask you to help me! Now go away, leave me in peace!"

Piccolo chuckled.

"Since when did I ever listen to you, hmm?"

Vegeta grunted and shut his eyes, again he was shaken but this time his head was swiftly dunked in the small pool that had nearly claimed his life.

"ARGH! I'LL KILL YOU!" he screamed as he was brought back up for air. He thrashed, but he had no energy and went limp in the Namek's grasp. He silently seethed at the taller man who regarded him with amusement.

"You're in no position to argue with me." His eyes narrowed and his voice went cold. "I know what you've done, Vegeta, and I will not allow you to check out like a coward."

Vegeta's mouth set in a tight line and he looked away to the ground.

Piccolo sighed.

He stood up with the Prince in his arms.

"Put me down!" he commanded. "I can stand on my own two feet."

"You're not going to try to go to sleep are you?" Full well knowing that sleep' meant lying down and letting death claim him.

After a moment of silence…

"No."

Piccolo eyed him, "Do I have your word?"

Vegeta shot a nasty look at him, well tried to, his vision was still fuzzy. "Yes."

The Namek nodded and placed the warrior on his feet. Piccolo had to give him credit; he stood there a whole 15 seconds before slumping to his knees. Vegeta frowned at himself and tried to stand back up. After about the fifth try he gave up and sat on his rear in the mud, staring angrily up at the Namek.

"Do you need-

"NO!" Vegeta shouted, insulted.

"Stubborn ass."

"Go away!"

"Now what kind of friend would I be if I did that?"

Vegeta growled at him.

Piccolo grinned, well at least he still had spunk. He studied Vegeta a moment. He looked terrible and he told him so. "Vegeta, you look like shit, and you don't smell much better."

Vegeta glared at him but made no reply; instead he tried once again to get to his feet. By this time, Piccolo had had enough. He scooped the protesting Saiyan up in his arms and took to the air. At first Vegeta struggled and called him every name in the book, but finally he grew too weary and settled back.

"When's the last time you've eaten?" the Namek asked not looking down.

He felt more than saw the smaller stature man shrug. Piccolo grew worried, Saiyans had to consume large amounts of food to keep up their strength. Vegeta had been missing for nearly a week and if he hadn't eaten in all that time the situation was direr than he first thought. He wasn't going to last long if he didn't get some food in his system.

The prince was like a rag doll in his arms, his head lolling around with each shift of movement. Piccolo felt an odd pang in his chest and tightened his hold. He couldn't let this man die; he simply wouldn't allow it. He willed Vegeta the strength to keep breathing while he flew as fast as possible to Kami's Lookout.

"We're nearly there, just hold on. I'll have Dende patch you up, but first things first, dinner."

There was silence, save for deep ragged breathing. A few minutes had passed when the prince finally made a noise.

"Piccolo?"

The voice was feeble, nearly child-like. Unknowingly, Piccolo increased his speed at the sound of it.

"What?"

Deep breathing.

"I'm tired."

The Namek felt his chest clench.

"I know you are. I promise once we get you fed and cleaned up you can go take a nap."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, but right now you have to stay awake for me. You got that?"

"Okay" the Prince said, so quietly that Piccolo nearly didn't hear it.


	4. Chapter 4 Delusions

Chapter Four: Delusions

"Is he going to be okay?"

The younger Namek nodded.

"Yes, he had a few cracked ribs." He shook his head, confounded, "Don't ask me how he managed to break them."

Dende stood up and dusted his white robe off. He considered the figure at his feet before looking up at the concerned man next to him.

"He needs to eat, and I mean now."

Although the Namek had intentions of feeding the battered Saiyan upon arrival, Dende had insisted that he heal the prince's wounds first. Mr. Popo, who was standing nearby, came forward with a tray filled with food. Piccolo sat the prince up knowing that although he was healed, he still lacked any energy and thus had to be assisted.

"All right, Vegeta, time to eat."

The Prince eyed the food and uttered a phrase that has never been uttered by any Saiyan before.

"I'm not hungry."

His eyes drooped, "I want to sleep. You said I could sleep when we got here."

Piccolo's mouth was set in a grim line, "I said you could sleep after you were healed, cleaned, and fed. So far, all we've done is healed you."

Dende sighed heavily and looked at the older Namek, "When you found him he had nearly completed systematically shutting down his body. It's called atrophic implementation," he explained, "a watered-down form of suicide." The guardian then leaned down to study the prone Saiyan that rested on the tiles before him. "I was taught about it on Namek. Only those who have a great control of their bodies can perform this technique."

He paused, trying to find the best way to explain, "The life force is pushed down so low that the heart rate is slowed to a crawl. Which explains why everyone had a hard time finding him. It's performed as a kind of hibernation technique to conserve energy. But, it's only to be practiced for, at the most, three days. I've never heard of it exceeding that amount of time, unless of course, death is the intent."

It was here that Dende lifted a questioning brow. Piccolo regarded him a long moment before speaking.

"He has his reasons," he said shortly. "Now, tell me more about what's wrong with him."

Dende shifted nervously but did as he was told, "In some cultures, atrophic implementation is referred to as a blameless suicide'. This is because you're letting time and the elements take you rather than outright killing yourself. Some of the cultures on this very planet practice it, especially in the North," he elucidated. "Within these tribes it is usually performed by the sick and the old or anyone that feels they have become a burden. The process itself is simple, though it does take a knowledge of energy control to do it."

"Well," the taller man cut in, impatiently when the guardian paused. "What's the process?"

"Well, like I said, the energy is pushed down to almost nothing. When this is done the person exerts themselves to exhaustion without taking any nutrients, but they must do this gradually, thus ki control. And that's all there is to it. In most cases, the person pulls themselves out of it within three days. After that period, when death is the intention, the motor reflexes go, followed by a mental breakdown, and then," he took a breath, "that's it, they die." He stood up again, "In his case," he nodded in Vegeta's direction, "it's been six days. I'm serious, Piccolo, if we don't get some nutrients in him, no amount of my healing is going to help him. He **will** die."

At that moment the prince stirred, "…so tired."

The older Namek eyed him with concern, visibly shaken by what the young guardian had told him. Vegeta's voice was unusually soft, as if it pained him to talk or even breath. And now that he got to thinking about it, he was sure it did. After hacking up mud, eating probably wasn't the first thing on his mind. But he didn't have a choice in the matter, as Dende just informed him, his very life was at stake

"Now listen," he said gruffly, "if you don't eat something right now. I'll force feed you myself."

But Vegeta didn't seem to be listening, he didn't even seem aware of his surroundings.

"Tired," he repeated.

"Eat something, and we'll remedy that," Dende said, urging the Saiyan to take something off of the tray before him.

"Piccolo?" Vegeta eyed Dende with wonderment "When did you get so short?"

Dende looked at the Prince closely, studying the Saiyan with sharp eyes, before widening them with alarm.

"Oh no, he's losing it. He's going to snap any second now." He shook his head, "Going so long without eating…I can't stop it! Piccolo, hold him!"

But before anyone could react, Vegeta began to shake uncontrollably, as if he was trying to hold on to something when suddenly his eyes fogged over. They moved erratically, never settling on any one thing for more than a second.

Mr. Popo, attempting to be helpful, walked towards him. He had the gift of inspiring peace within the most violent of creatures and was hopeful he could take control over the situation. He crooned to the Saiyan softly as he moved closer, step by careful step.

Black eyes grew as wide as saucers at the large black blob that was advancing on him, opening its great red maw growling about eating things.

"AHHHHHH!"

Vegeta attempted to back away from Mr. Popo, his eyes wild with fear.

"AHHH! Monster!"

"What's wrong with him?" Piccolo demanded.

Dende rushed forward to try to calm the Prince. "He's delirious. As I said, he's losing his senses."

Piccolo growled. Out of nowhere Vegeta acquired a burst of energy and tried to bat away Dende while crawling backwards away from Mr. Popo. His mind was dissolving, if Piccolo didn't act quickly he was going to loose him. He stormed forward and knelt down by the flailing Prince, who took it upon himself to attach himself to the tall Namek.

"Don't let him get me!" he pleaded, clinging to the green-skinned man's arm for dear life.

"Vegeta! Stop it. I hate to do this but you leave me no choice." He quickly took off his turban followed by his cape, which was big enough to be a blanket for the smaller Saiyan, and swooped him up and swaddled him in the material. Oddly enough, Vegeta didn't fight him, just stared wide-eyed at Mr. Popo, uttering "don't eat me" over and over.

"Mr. Popo, bring the tray over here." Piccolo demanded.

"AHH! Not the Popo monster! Get away!" screamed the Saiyan.

"Oh, for the love of... Dende, you bring it."

The younger Namek quickly complied and brought the tray over. He shifted the bound Vegeta into one arm and picked up the bowl of soup with his free hand. Apparently being tightly swaddled calmed the Prince down considerably. He had stopped his struggles and his features became relaxed and drowsy. The Namek was extremely thankful, and brought the bowl close to the Saiyan's lips.

"Now open your mouth."

Vegeta, not be the cooperating type, clamped his mouth shut and shook his head no, seemingly forgetting about the imminent danger of the Lookout's gardener.

Piccolo narrowed his eyes in frustration; this wasn't going to be a walk in the park.

"Must you be an utter pain in the ass?"

The Prince blinked up at him before nodding enthusiastically.

"Man, you've completely flipped haven't you?" Piccolo proclaimed in amazement. Dende hadn't been joking when he said mental breakdown'. One second he was screaming for dear life and now he was grinning up at him like an opossum. "When you get your senses back," the Namek promised, "I'll never let you live this down. Now open your mouth."

All he got was a grin.

"Enough of this shit." He glared down at the Saiyan. "Open your mouth right now, or I'll let the Popo monster eat you."

Sheer horror spread across the Prince's face. He cowered down in the Namek's arm, but very timidly he opened his mouth. And then something happened. Piccolo stared down at the man in his arms in wonderment. He looked so child-like, so innocent; he had never seen Vegeta like this before. He'd never seen anyone like this before. It made him feel… peculiar. He didn't like it. It was when Vegeta parted his lips ever so slowly, that Piccolo released a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. _What the hell's wrong with me?'_ he thought.

He attempted to shrug it off, but the feeling remained. He tipped the bowl to the Saiyan's lips, and very slowly let the liquid run down his throat. He tipped the bowl back up. Vegeta's eyes narrowed.

"You're mean."

Piccolo grinned. "How astute of you." He tipped the bowl back down once more, and continued this until the broth was gone. "Now, are you going to eat some more of this on your own?"

"No."

Piccolo snorted. "Well at least you're honest."

"Tired."

"I know you are. You'll sleep soon enough."

Vegeta's eyes drooped.

Piccolo shook him awake for which he earned a vicious glare, and for that the Namek shoved a spoon full of potatoes in his mouth. At first Vegeta nearly spit them out, but after Piccolo pointed in the direction of Mr. Popo he choked them down, not without glaring at his captor first.

Finally after spoon-feeding the prince a satisfactory amount of food, Dende looked him over once again to make sure he was out of harm's way. With a sigh of relief the guardian gave the Namek beside him a thumbs up.

Relieved himself, the tall warrior picked up his ward and walked towards one of the many chambers in the Lookout. Unfortunately for Piccolo, Vegeta was still delirious and still weak. According to Dende it would be a couple of days before he was back on his feet again. "Oh, joy" Piccolo had said, but for some reason, the idea of caring for the prince, waiting on him hand and foot, didn't bother him.

They entered a bedroom that had a full bath in it. He placed Vegeta in a chair and started to fill the tub.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

A/N: Okay, a bit of a OCC chapter I admit...but I couldn't bring myself to delete it. Please forgive me for being a tad off character. I do try to limit it in chapters to come.


	5. Chapter 5 Discoveries

Chapter Five: Discoveries

"Sleep?"

"No, bath"

"Sleep."

Piccolo sighed, "Don't even think about it. I don't suppose you can bathe yourself?"

The only answer he got was soft snoring. Piccolo grew irritated; Vegeta was out of harm's way now that he had food in stomach but still he was a mess. He considered just leaving him on the bed and when he woke up he could bathe himself. But after looking him up and down again he decided against it.

Vegeta was a greasy mud ball; he couldn't even discern what color his clothes had originally been. Grime and mud were caked on his small frame making him resemble more a pygmy than a prince, especially with the knotted garland of twigs and leaves tangled in his black flame of hair. Piccolo shook his head, no the little shit had to be washed.

He shut the water off and unwrapped his prisoner' out of his cape. After a quick glance he noticed that it too was going to have to be cleaned thanks to its former inhabitant. He sighed heavily, now for the fun part. He tried to stand Vegeta up and succeeded momentarily, when he leaned him up against the wall. He slumped over after a few seconds but that's all Piccolo needed to peel his filthy clothes from his body. He silently prayed that Vegeta would not wake up, or if he did, wouldn't remember any of this later.

After freeing the sleeping warrior from his clothes he placed him gently in the tub. Vegeta groaned and shifted, his eyes fluttering open to look dazedly around the room before settling on Piccolo.

_Oh shit, _was the first thought that ran through the Namek's mind. But Vegeta just gave him a lazy smile and leaned back in the water.

He sighed with relief.

"Can you take it from here?"

"Take what?" Vegeta asked naively.

"You know," he motioned towards the soap.

Giggles.

"Oh by the Gods" Piccolo said exasperated, "you seriously don't want me to bathe you, do you?"

"No, I don't need a bath, see?" he said holding up arms, which by the way, were filthy.

Piccolo shook his head in dismay. "Ugh...fine," he uttered in defeat, "but you owe me for this."

"mm…hmm..."

With an exasperated sigh, Piccolo picked up the pitcher, filled it with water and dumped it on the Saiyan's head. His hair fell flat around his face but quickly attempted to regain its vertical position. After a couple more douses of water it stayed relatively flat.

The Namek looked at him with curiosity. Now he knew why Vegeta wore his hair sticking straight up. With his hair laying flat like this, the Saiyan Prince looked a whole 16 years old. But he figured his hair naturally did what it wanted to. Piccolo shook the thought from his head. He began to shampoo Vegeta's hair and was a bit startled to find how soft it was when he expected it to be coarse. He grunted. _Learn something new everyday_. But the thought was pushed aside as he concentrated on his task.

Vegeta's eyes rolled back and he grinned madly, apparently he was enjoying this. If the Saiyan had been in his right mind, Piccolo was sure that there would be a big green blob were he was standing right about now. Luckily, for the both of them, the Prince was still in la la land.

Onyx eyes darted down Vegeta's body. He was a well-muscled warrior, there was no doubt about that, and judging from the numerous scars on his body, he had lived a hard life. Indeed, he was well sculpted, but unlike the other Z fighters, he was compact, lithe, not bulky like Goku or the others. It was no wonder he was so much quicker than all the rest of them. "I guess being small has its advantages," he said to himself. He then mentally smacked himself for looking.

He rinsed Vegeta's hair with the clean water that was coming through the vents. Fortunately, this was one of those tubs that constantly drained and filled with fresh water, which was advantageous, because Vegeta would never get clean otherwise.

He sat the Prince up and soaped up the sponge; now was the awkward part. He hesitated awhile and looked the prince in the eye. Vegeta again grinned at him; obviously he wasn't going to be any help. "Fine," he muttered softly, "the sooner I do this the sooner it'll be over with." Quickly, he ran the sponge over Vegeta's shoulders; the prince sighed and leaned into it. Piccolo was still flabbergasted by his behavior, and had to remind himself on a constant basis that Vegeta had no idea or control over his own actions. He might as well have been a little kid.

Piccolo soaped up his arms, his chest, and returned to his back. The Saiyan was enjoying every second of it judging by the noises he was making. And for some odd reason the little cooing sounds were affecting Piccolo in a way he couldn't put his finger on. It was beyond him, but he found that he didn't mind the noises; in fact, he kind of liked hearing them. As such, he found himself slowing the pace when scrubbing the Saiyan's back.

It was then he noticed the deep gashes that ran along his shoulders all the way down to the small of his back. It reconfirmed his earlier suspicions that the Saiyan Prince had lived a harsh life.

Unexpectedly, Vegeta moved his arms to settle on the sides of the tub. The movement caused his back muscles to flex, and Piccolo found himself staring at them with interest. He again mentally slapped himself-at this rate his brain would be bruised- and continued to scrub. It was then that he noticed a particularly interesting scar.

Resting in the lower recesses of the Saiyan's back was a small circular spot. Piccolo recognized it immediately.

"Vegeta's tail spot."

"Uh-huh, I miss my tail"

Piccolo flinched. He hadn't realized he had said that out loud. He looked away, but Vegeta had closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep again. Piccolo picked the sponge back up and ran it over the tail spot, very gently just to get it clean. He knew how sensitive the Saiyans' tails were, and he imagined this little scar was no different. However, nothing prepared him for Vegeta's reaction.

The Prince moaned low in the throat, almost a growl. Piccolo stopped, presuming he had made him angry. But the Prince whimpered when the sponge was removed. Out of curiosity-purely scientific mind you- he gently ran the sponge across the scar; Vegeta moaned again. The Prince's actions fascinated him. He slowly moved the sponge in gentle little circles, watching the Saiyan closely for a reaction. Vegeta leaned his head back and parted his lips, letting his tongue flick across them briefly.

"uhn...mmmm"

He moaned louder as Piccolo picked up the tempo. The Saiyan leaned back into the Namek's hands, his hips thrusting out of the water, revealing his quite rigid member. And it was then Piccolo, quite avidly, realized the reaction Vegeta was having to his scrubbing'. He felt a blush creep across his green skin, yet he found the sight to his taste.

His lips parted and he let out a breath, somehow the sponge got discarded and now he found his fingers moving over the spot, slowly caressing then applying slight pressure working the little scar over, causing Vegeta's hips to thrust faster and harder in the water.

His moans were louder, turning into shouts, his eyes clasped shut. The Namek was enjoying this immensely. He felt an ache in his groin as the Saiyan's actions got more and more violent. He took note of every detail, admiring how the water played upon the finely chiseled chest of the warrior. His mouth watered.

With each movement of the prince's hips, the water would splash up against the sides of the large tub higher and higher, threatening to spill over. But it was the Saiyan's moans that were driving him over the edge. At each whimper, sigh, or groan, Piccolo felt his stomach flutter and coil, the heated feeling coming from his nether regions intensifying ten fold. His eyes focused on Vegeta's hips, engrossed on the well endowments of the small stature man. In awe, he silently wondered where he managed to hide all of it. His fingers massaged the spot with more pressure.

Vegeta threw his head back groaning, back arching, raising his hips completely off the base of the tub, water splashing out onto the ground. But the green warrior paid it no heed; his eyes were fixed on Vegeta's pelvis. Pre-cum glistened from the head of the shaft and ever so slowly dripped down to the base. It was at this point that Piccolo completely forgot himself. He reached towards the Saiyan's bucking hips going for the engorged prize. He had this uncontrollable urge to touch it, lick off the sticky liquid at the tip, wrap his hand around it and pump it silly. He had no idea where these urges were coming from and at the moment he didn't care. He licked his lips, now he was only inches from his destination. Suddenly, Vegeta let out a particularly loud moan. It was sweet music to his ears and Piccolo nearly doubled over from the throbbing in his pants.

"Mmm...touch me," a soft plea.

Unfortunately, this startled the Namek and was enough to shake him to reality. His eyes flew open.

_What the hell was that!_ his mind screamed. _Oh by the Gods! _His mind raced with fervor. _I'm molesting my best friend!' _He felt his stomach twist in sickening knots. _What the hell is wrong with me? Vegeta's near death and I'm taking advantage of him. I'm taking advantage of him! I'm a Namek! I'm not supposed to be taking advantage of anyone, little alone a MALE Saiyan! Oh god, oh god-_

Piccolo couldn't register his actions. He sat there frozen, staring at Vegeta looking for a reaction. The Saiyan's eyes remained closed, and his bucking died down and finally stopped. Vegeta gave a disappointed sigh.

"Tease."

Piccolo looked at his friend in horror. _Oh please don't say he was completely alert when I did that to him. _Luck seemed to be on Piccolo's side as he was rewarded by soft snoring. No, Vegeta had no clue what went on; for all he knew it was a dream.

Piccolo finished cleaning the prince in record time and had him rinsed, dried, and dressed within a matter of minutes. He laid him down on the bed.

"I'm going to the abyss," he whispered to himself, "I'm going to the abyss and I'm going to rot for all eternity." He tucked Vegeta in, "I'm so, so sorry."

Piccolo walked away, but a quiet voice stopped him.

"Piccolo?"

The Namek froze in his tracks, his mind hurriedly searching for an explanation.

He slowly turned. Vegeta was looking at him, his eyes focused. Piccolo held his breath. Whatever part of Vegeta's brain that had been rational was now fighting through and gaining in strength. The prince blinked a couple of times trying to focus his eyes on the Namek before speaking.

"You know I'm not good at this," Piccolo looked at the Saiyan stunned, scared to death of what the ending of that sentence would be, "but thank you."

The Namek's mind whirled.

"For what?" he asked after a shaky pause.

"For not allowing me to go out like a coward."

A wave of cool relief washed over the warrior.

"Oh that; don't think anything of it."

Vegeta settled back into the bed.

"Yeah well, thanks anyway. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to sleep." He yawned. "I don't care if the sky's falling down around those pointy ears of yours, you wake me up, I'll kill you in many a nasty way."

Piccolo chuckled despite himself.

"Glad to see you're getting back to your old self."

"Mmm…hmm" Vegeta smirked and then within seconds fell off into a deep sleep.


	6. Chapter 6 Analysis

Chapter Six: Analysis

Piccolo made his way back to his quarters, mind reeling. Questions churned and boiled; questions about his actions, his intentions, but most of all, of himself.

He sat down in an overstuffed chair, one of the few luxuries he allowed himself to have. He bent over holding his head in his hands. Today had been eventful to say the least. A bitter laugh erupted from his throat. Was there still some part of him that was totally gone? Not just evil, but depraved? He tried to remember his youth, it all seemed so long ago, but in reality it wasn't. He didn't feel he was ever evil, just incredibly angry. An angry young warrior who had big ideals of power. But never would he have gone so far as to **_invade_** someone as he had just done to Vegeta. He didn't think himself capable of such an act. It stemmed from curiosity. He grimaced, but that's how most of his troubles in life began. Over the years he had learned to control his inquisitive tendencies. How could he have slipped up so much?

Yet, there was something else behind it. If it had been sheer interest he wouldn't have gotten so much, he shook his head disdainfully, pleasure from it. Nothing had set him off like that before. He wondered at himself, _I'm a Namek am I not? Such desires are wasted on me, I'm not capable of it...at least I'm not supposed to be._

_'Well apparently you are,'_ a voice said in the back of his head.

"Nail," Piccolo growled, "Go away. You're not welcome right now."

_'Would you rather I summon Kami? I'm sure he could explain this to you just as well. But I figured you would rather hear it from me, rather than your uncle.'_

Piccolo sat up. "Hear what?"

He swore he heard a chuckle.

_'You are well aware of Namekian history.'_

"Thanks to the fusion with Kami and you," he replied. "What has that got to do with anything?"

_'A lot more than you think. You remember how the Namekian race used to be.'_

Piccolo snorted. "That was a long time ago, even by Kami's standards. Those old tricks of nature should have disappeared along with the-"

_'They are not tricks, Piccolo.'_

"Whatever."

A sigh. '_Bonding remained on Namek even after the Dark Wind. We are not a heartless race. Why do you think you had the urges you did? Morbid curiosity? Depravation? No...they originated from a much deeper source.'_

Piccolo laughed.

"Are you insinuating I'm in love with Vegeta?"

He gave another half-hearted chuckle.

"That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard!"

If Nail had his own head he would have been shaking it in disdain.

_'Is it so absurd?'_

"Yes!" Piccolo straightened. "One I'm not gay. Two, I'm a warrior, not some farmer who didn't have anything better to do with themselves other than have a tryst with their brother." He sat back in the chair. "What a bunch of sentimental crap. Thirdly, by being a warrior, I have no interest in such trivial fancies. Fourth, and most importantly, it's Vegeta!" Piccolo scoffed. "That's a whole issue in and of itself. First off Vegeta's not a Namek but a Saiyan, and a prince at that. Not to mention that he's MALE! I'm not gay. Forget that he's married and he has a kid. Even if by some stretch of the imagination I was remotely attracted to him, which I'm not, Vegeta's a, how do you term it," he paused, "a manly man, straight as an arrow. One of the many reasons I claim him as a friend. Now if you'll excuse me," he sneered, "I have some serious thinking to do without your pestering. I need to find out what's wrong with me. I'm not gay."

_'Piccolo, you have some serious problems, you know that?'_

The Namek rolled his eyes. "Yes, and you're one of them."

_'You'll come around, you'll see.'_

"Yeah and if I had my way, you and the old fool would both be out. Now go away."

Piccolo could feel Nail try to speak but he violently closed his mind off to him. This was one of those moments he regretted fusing with the native of Namek, but at the time he had no choice. He slumped in his chair exasperated. He wasn't attracted to Vegeta, he just wasn't. _I mean I've always admired him, how could I not? But it was just that admiration and respect that turned into friendship. We both know what it's like to fight for survival,_ he considered, _We have both known__ the anger and humiliation of being beaten by a most hated enemy, a hated enemy that in some way or another turned us both. Made us like him. Good? I've certainly changed, but do I consider myself good? Before today I would have thought so, but now I'm not so sure. What could have caused me to do such a thing? Okay I admit it, I like the stupid monkey. But it's an innocent friendship, same as the one between Krillen and Goku, nothing more._

_'Then why were you so worried this afternoon?'_

"Oh by the Demons, not you too."

_'You cannot avoid me lad, I am forever a part of you.'_

"Ugh, don't remind me," Piccolo groaned. He concentrated and tried to push Kami away. For his efforts he received a wizened chortle.

_'Nice try, but I'm not so easy to block off as Nail is.'_

"To hell with you, old man. I didn't ask for your advice."

_'You never do-'_

"And that should tell you something-

_'Hush now, and listen.'_

"Humph" he crossed his arms. "Make it quick, I haven't got all day to listen to your banter."

The elderly voice spoke with amusement, '_Yes I know how 'busy' you are watching over the Earth.'_

"Dende's job not mine, I train-"

_'Quiet now and listen to what I have to say to you.'_ The voice waited to see if Piccolo would object further. Luckily, he was silent, granted it was an angry silence, but a silence nonetheless, which suited Kami just fine. The former guardian spoke in Piccolo's head with grandfatherly softness.

_'I know you are confused, lad, but Nail is right. I can see into his thoughts and memories just as I do your own.'_ Piccolo felt a lingering ghost of fingers comb through a mind that was not his own. '_Though I arrived here as a child with no memory of how I came to be, I have always felt a yearning to seek out another of my kind,'_ Kami continued. _'I see now why. It is only natural for you to have these instincts, but you are lucky enough to act on them. You should take this risk, Piccolo, there is no shame in it.'_

"Oh, enough of this bullshit!" Piccolo exclaimed. "Listen, you and Nail can be as queer as six-toed donkey and that's just great. But this isn't Namek," he pointed out. "This is Earth, where I was born and raised. I consider myself an Earthling before a Namek. Earth's ways are my own, and such behavior is looked on with mistrust. I agree times are changing, but..." he sighed, this was all giving him a terrible headache.

"Look, Kami…and Nail, considering I know that you're listening, I don't feel that way towards Vegeta. He's just a friend."

_'You wouldn't allow yourself to feel otherwise because he was bound to another, but now that bond has been severed. I don't think even he realizes that yet. But what has been done has been done. Try to hide all you want, young one. I know you.'_

A mixture of amusement and annoyance played on the green man's face.

"Oh do you?"

_'Let me ask you one question. If these feelings are just of the friendly nature, then explain to me your emotions when Vegeta sacrificed himself in the battle with Buu.'_

"Shut-up, old man! I don't have to explain anything to you."

_'As I thought. It's unfortunate that you can't hide your feelings from me, isn't it? I know how you felt when he died, and I know how you felt when he came back to life. You can hide behind the bigotries of Earth all you want, but you can't hide what's in your heart. Love is blind-'_

"Deaf, and dumb...very dumb," he added waspishly, "downright idiotic in fact. That's what got Vegeta in this mess to begin with."

_'Yes, he is now lost. He will need someone to guide him through the darkness. A friend to lean upon in his time of need.'_

Piccolo groaned. Yes, what Vegeta needed right now was a friend. Not someone trying to rape him in the bathtub while he's in a helpless, delusional state.

"Now it's your turn to listen. I'm tired. I have my own **personal **thoughts to sort through without your and Nail's intrusions. I've listened to what you both have said, now grant me the courtesy and leave me in peace."

_'Very well,'_ the voice became a duo of an elderly crack and a smoothness of youth, '_consider what we have told you.'_

"Yeah, whatever, off with you."

Like a weight being lifted from his shoulders, his head was clear once more. He sighed. Perhaps he did feel something for Vegeta. A little, tiny something. What was he going to do about it? Absolutely nothing! He would ignore it, and it would go away. The bathtub incident? What bathtub incident? As far as he was concerned it didn't happened. Of course this all depended on if Vegeta remembered anything when he woke up.

Piccolo prayed the Saiyan would get struck with a sudden case of amnesia for the prince's sake, and for his own.


	7. Chapter 7 Settling

Chapter Seven: Settling

Vegeta awoke. His vision was blurred but nonetheless he tried to turn his head to look at his surroundings. His neck, however, didn't seem to want to cooperate, being much too stiff for the endeavor. He groaned, and with a great effort pulled himself up. His whole body ached, and his head felt like it would split in two. But beyond the pain he felt weak, exhausted, and terribly hungry.

He didn't recognize the room he was in nor could he remember how he got here. The last thing he recalled was running through a forest. Closing his eyes he thought about it for a moment. He got flashes here and there of being carried through the air, being placed in this bed, and thanking someone. The prince surmised that he must have been terribly injured to allow anyone so close. He looked down at himself to take stock; he was healed, clean, and his training clothes were gone, replaced by...He smirked. Well at least now he knew who had saved him. He was dressed exactly like Piccolo sans the cape and turban.

"That's right he has that handy trick of pulling clothes out of thin air," he muttered to himself. He immediately regretted speaking, his throat was raw and his mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. He swallowed trying to alleviate the pain, but it did little to help and, if anything, made it worse. _How far did I let myself go?_

Vegeta knew he needed to get up, knew if he was going to feel better that he'd have to eat something. Even so, he didn't want to move, didn't even know if he could. Thus began the inward battle on whether or not he should drift back to sleep or fight the courageous fight and get out of bed now.

Fortunately, the decision was made for him. The door cracked open and a timid looking Dende walked in.

"You're awake."

Vegeta shot him a nasty look.

"And you're in good spirits too, I see."

An incoherent grumble.

Dende chuckled. "Well at least you're alive. We were worried there for a minute. I bet you're hungry. I'll have Mr. Popo bring you some food. If that's okay of course, I wouldn't want to startle you." He said the last part while suppressing a grin.

Vegeta sneered.

"Why in the hell would that startle me?" his voice was hoarse.

"Oh no reason." Dende smiled sweetly and walked out. Moments later Mr. Popo came in.

He approached the man on the bed slowly as if he was afraid the Saiyan would run away like a frightened rabbit.

Vegeta stared at him with a raised brow watching as Mr. Popo very slowly set a copper tray down at the side of the bed, brimming over with various meats, fruits, and vegetables. He was happy to see that there were two large glasses and two pitchers, one filled with water and the other some sort of juice; his throat was killing him.

"If you need anything more, just ask."

Vegeta nodded, and Mr. Popo backed out of the room his hands held up in defense.

_What the hell is his problem? _Vegeta thought to himself while eyeing the food. Without hesitation he dug in. So engrossed in the meal, he didn't notice the tall Namek enter the room.

Piccolo studied Vegeta as he ate. He looked a great deal better and he was gorging himself, a positive sign. Satisfied, he chose to stay in the shadows and simply observe for a little longer.

Vegeta finished down the last of the water and pushed the empty tray away. He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling trying to block the on-coming rush of reality. He couldn't run anymore, well not yet anyway, he was still too weak. _I'm weak on many levels, though, am I not?'_This thought opened the dam to the flood of anguish that was awaiting him. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for it to consume him.

"Do you want more?"

He jolted straight up in bed and berated himself soundly. He should have noticed the presence of another person in the room and he completely missed it.

Piccolo smirked, "So edgy."

"Yeah well, habit of late I'm afraid." Vegeta said softly, it still hurt like hell to talk.

The green one frowned. He cursed Bulma under his breath.

"Still hungry?"

Vegeta shrugged, which meant yes.

Piccolo turned his head to the door and was silent a few moments. He then turned back to the prince, "It's on its way."

The prince grunted in response and settled down into the bed, trying desperately to fight the pain.

A comfortable silence descended on the room. It wasn't broken when Mr. Popo returned with a fresh tray. With an inclination of his head, Piccolo thanked him, in which the gardener bowed in return, leaving the two in peace.

Vegeta finished this tray just as quickly as he finished the first, yet this time he left a few scraps on it. He admitted he felt better now that there was food in his stomach. Physically, anyway, but mentally he felt drained, and emotionally he felt dead. He glanced in the Namek's direction, wondering why he was still standing there, and wondering why he didn't mind.

Piccolo sighed.

"Listen, Vegeta, I hate to be the bearer of reality, but I have to ask you this."

The Saiyan's dull eyes stayed on him unwavering, emotionless.

"The others are worried about you."

Vegeta snorted.

"If they were so damn worried about me, why didn't they look for me for more than two days?" He looked away as if he regretted saying that out loud.

Piccolo nodded.

"Yes, I know. But if it makes any difference the majority of us only found out yesterday what had," a short pause, "occurred. If I had known sooner, you probably wouldn't be in such bad shape."

Vegeta didn't respond. He didn't want to say anything to humiliate himself further; he was already ashamed of himself. Piccolo shouldn't have had to nurse him back to health like a sick babe.

The Namek read the Saiyan's silence and continued speaking, "Some think you're dead."

The prince's mouth set in a grim line.

"Perhaps it's better this way."

He felt his chest clench at Vegeta's statement. _Damn them all, _he thought.

"My point is," he sighed, "is I know you weren't wanting to be found. So do you want me to contact them or not? The reason I ask is your belongings, I believe, are at Goku's. Why they sent them there is beyond me. If you want them I'll have to tell them you're okay."

Vegeta was silent, Piccolo almost thought he wasn't going to respond, but finally he heard a quiet whisper, "I don't want to see any of them, especially _**her**."_

The taller man nodded.

"I understand."

Vegeta continued, "But I don't want my possessions left at that stupid bastard's house either. Who knows what he'll do with them, and no offense, but I can't run around in this," he motioned towards his clothing, "for the rest of my days either."

Piccolo grinned.

"Well why not, it's a step up from spandex. At least now you look respectable."

"No I don't, I'm dressed like you."

"Hey, I could have put you in one of those robe-dress things that Dende wears, how would you like that?"

Vegeta somehow managed a small smirk.

"Point made."

"Thank you." He crossed his arms. "All right then, I'll have your stuff brought up here."

Vegeta nodded, "What will you tell them?"

"That you're dead and I want to riffle through your things."

That earned another small smirk.

Piccolo shrugged.

"I'll tell them you're safe but that you need some time on your own, and visitors would be very unwelcome at this time."

Vegeta nodded in approval.

The rest of the day went along without incident. Goku delivered Vegeta's things to Kami's Lookout, wanting very badly to see the Saiyan Prince, but Piccolo wouldn't have it.

"Aw, come on Piccolo, just for a second. I just want to see with my own eyes that he's okay. Nothing against you, but I want to talk to him face to face. I think he's still mad at me."

Piccolo sneered. _And he has reason to be_ he thought darkly.

"Goku," he intoned, "I told you he's okay. He just needs some time. This wasn't the greatest news in the world for him. Leave him in peace, all right?"

Goku looked greatly disappointed.

"Well," he sighed, "if you say so. Bulma will be glad to hear that he's all right. This really shook her up. I don't think she expected him to run off like that."

The Namek all but snarled with contempt, "Yeah, I'm sure it rattled her real bad. Now if you don't mind, Goku, I have a world to help look after."

Goku's eyes widened momentarily. "Oh yeah, I keep forgetting how busy you are now. Heh, sorry about that." He gave one of his classic goofy grins and scratched his head. Turning in preparation to blast off for the sky he said,

"See you later, Piccolo. Tell Dende and Mr. Popo I said hi."

"Yeah whatever, see you."

And with that the Earthly Saiyan took off for home.


	8. Chapter 8 Confessions and Confusion

Chapter Eight: Confessions and Confusion

It had been a few days, but Piccolo had finally been able to coax Vegeta outside. The Saiyan had spent the majority of his time sleeping or staring out into space. He hardly spoke; he hardly did anything for that matter.

The Namek had tried to persuade Vegeta to spar, train, blast things-anything constructive- yet he wanted nothing to do with it. Finally, after much prodding, he agreed to join Piccolo on a meditative retreat'. It was the taller man's logic that if the Saiyan was going to mope he could do so outside; anything to get him out of that room.

So now here they sat under the waterfall; the same one Piccolo frequently meditated under before he chose to live at the Lookout. They sat there a few hours, Piccolo mentally training his mind and Vegeta simply staring off into the distance. His jean-clad legs were drawn up, his hands resting in his lap, his dulled eyes watching as the sun got lower and lower in the sky.

Piccolo was having a hard time concentrating with the prince sitting there like a vegetable. He was worried for him, very much so. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he was able to settle his mind and ground himself, so when Vegeta spoke it understandably startled him.

"Was I that bad?"

Piccolo opened his eyes and looked at him curiously.

Vegeta's eyes narrowed in thought.

"I didn't think I was. I never hurt her, I was faithful to her, I always protected her. I raised Trunks along side her. What did I do wrong?"

Piccolo shook his head. He wasn't good at this, but he spoke nonetheless.

"I don't know what happened, Vegeta. I highly doubt it was something you did." He didn't know what to say. "Sometimes these things happen."

The Prince snorted, "That's what I told Trunks when his hamster died. Sometimes these things happen. You just pick yourself up and life moves on.' Funny, I can't even take my own advice."

A sigh came from the direction of the Namek.

"You're being too hard on yourself."

Piccolo rose and took a seat by his friend. His eyes too sought out the setting sun. Vegeta kept speaking in a soft whisper.

"I just don't understand." His face suddenly contorted in pain, "I tried, Piccolo, I really did. I tried."

The Namek nodded, "I know you did, we all knew."

"No," he said angrily, "it wasn't good enough for her, if it was she wouldn't be with this...this...

Without thinking, "Billy?"

Vegeta choked.

"Is that his name?"

"Yeah, you didn't know?" Piccolo looked startled.

"No, she wouldn't tell me. She was afraid I would kill him, and she was right to be afraid because I would have." He shook his head, trying to control himself and was not very successful.

"Did you see him...with her?"

After a small hesitation the Namek gave a short silent nod.

"So, he's already moved in, taking my place. Wow, that's just wonderful, isn't it?" a renegade tear escaped Vegeta's harsh defensives and rolled down the warrior's cheek. His voice breaking as he spoke, "Is...is he...nice to her...is… she happy?"

A hesitation;

"Vegeta, you're just going to hurt yourself further."

"Please, I have to know." He looked at the tall warrior pleadingly, tears welling up in his eyes. "If she's going to do this to me," he reasoned, "she damn well better be pleased with herself."

Piccolo's eyes wavered when he looked at the small statured prince. This was killing him; he couldn't stand seeing Vegeta so hurt, so broken.

"Yes," he answered, "on both accounts." He grimaced suddenly. "He's a spineless sentimental fool who bows to her every whim." He quickly added, for he thought this would make him feel better, "But he's the god awful ugliest thing I've ever seen."

However, this backfired.

"So, she left me for an ugly hen-pecked sop?" Tears were now freely flowing down his cheeks.

"This isn't fair!" he yelled. "I did everything she wanted, everything she asked. I swallowed my pride, disregarded my Saiyan heritage and took her as my mate, I even stayed on this damn planet." He choked on a sob.

"She never asked that much from me, though, I don't know why, I would have done anything. Was she afraid of me? Afraid I'd refuse her? How could she be?"

His shoulders began to tremble. Piccolo stayed completely silent, but listened intently, thinking it good that he finally was getting it out instead of bottling it away.

Vegeta shook his head; night was beginning to fall.

"Eleven years! Eleven years I was with her, if she was so unhappy why didn't she end this sooner? Why didn't she tell me? I thought we were fine, I was fine...wasn't I? Wasn't I what everybody wanted, what she wanted? I don't hurt people anymore, I don't conquer anymore, I stay home and train. She has to give me that, doesn't she?" He looked bewilderedly at Piccolo, but his voice kept going as if he had no will over it.

"I tried to be the mate she always wanted... The one she wanted to wish for when she was a young girl. But -"

His voice cracked, his barriers crashing down.

"I guess I didn't notice. I should have seen she was unhappy. I mean she acted kind of strange after the whole Buu thing, but I shrugged it off. Maybe if I had been the sentimental fool this wouldn't have happened." His voice trembled and finally, and uncontrollably, he began to cry. He curled in on himself, burying his face in his hands in a weak attempt to comfort himself.

Piccolo couldn't stand the sight of the Saiyan he had come to admire, crumpled in such agony. He watched, helpless, as Vegeta started to rock back and forth weeping as if his very soul was being torn from his body. He couldn't help himself; He reached out and timidly put an arm around the broken man, expecting to be pushed away. When Vegeta made no such move, the taller warrior pulled him to his chest, just as the moon rose in the sky.

"This is not your fault, Vegeta," he soothed, "quit trying to take all the blame." He found himself rocking the Saiyan gently. The Prince sobbed into his shoulder, his pride completely dead.

"I loved her so much...more than anything," his voice sounding strained as he cried. "Now what am I going to do? The only thing I have left is my son and she's going to try to take him too...By the Gods what am I going to do?" The sobs intensified with the realization of the utter position of powerlessness he was in.

This was tormenting the Namek to no end. Absentmindedly, he started to rub Vegeta's back in an effort to comfort him. Why was this hurting him so much? Why did he care so much? Why did he enjoy the feeling of Vegeta pressed up against his chest like this? Then it dawned on him; so he did indeed have feelings for the Saiyan Prince. His eyes watered, Vegeta's pain cut through him like swords.

Piccolo held on to him tighter as the elite's sobs grew more erratic.

"This is the worst pain I have ever felt," Vegeta confessed, "I'd die a million times over if I never had to feel this again." His own arms wrapped around the Namek. "I don't want to be alone again."

Piccolo shut his eyes in sympathy before opening them again to comfort the prince the only way that came to mind. He took Vegeta gently by the shoulders and sat him up, looking directly into the dark eyes that were streaming with crystalline tears. They shone in the moonlight, reflecting like jewels as they slid down his pale cheeks.

Piccolo had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Vegeta's face grew taut with sorrow, he looked imploringly at his comforter, as if he was afraid the Namek would push him away and leave him to bawl in the dirt. Piccolo's throat tightened, Vegeta looked so frightened and broken. He had to remedy this; somehow he had to make it better.

Without fully realizing what he was doing, the Namek's head bent towards the Saiyan's. His mouth claimed the soft parted lips of the prince, unprepared for the heated rush spreading throughout his body as he did so. He ended the soft kiss, and Vegeta looked up at him in utter confusion.

"Piccolo?"

He hushed the Saiyan by putting a finger to his lips.

"Shhh...let me help take the pain away for a while."

Vegeta's brows knitted together in puzzlement, but he felt like he was drowning. He didn't care right now if he lived or died. Anything was better than this torture, so he didn't flinch when Piccolo ran his hand through his hair. He didn't push him away, scream at him, blast him for daring to touch the Royal, All Mighty Prince of Saiyans. He didn't do any of the things he thought he should have done. He didn't even feel the way he ought to have felt. Disgust and anger didn't even cross his senses. Confusion did, but an odd sense of comfort accompanied it along with warmth, and something else he couldn't name. He was in no state to analyze any of this, so he simply let Piccolo do what he wanted to do, putting an unnatural amount of trust in him to keep his word and take the pain away if only for a short while.

Piccolo caressed Vegeta's face, drying his tears, continually running his hands through his soft flame of black hair. Vegeta shut his eyes as Piccolo's lips met with his own once again. The pain ebbed, and Vegeta timidly kissed the Namek back.

Piccolo's heart skipped when the Saiyan started to participate. He deepened the kiss and softly pushed the Prince to the ground. He sat up and quickly discarded his turban and weighted cape with a flick of his wrist. After doing so he turned his attentions back to the trembling Saiyan below him.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Wide black eyes settled on him,

"I know."

Slowly, he pulled off the black tank that covered Vegeta's chest, and let his fingers run down the muscled torso. The Saiyan shivered, not expecting the Namek's hands to be so soft.

Said hands wandered all over the prince's body. Something inside the taller warrior was guiding him, telling him what to do. He cringed at the thought of where it was coming from. Kami or Nail; he didn't want to know, so he simply obeyed. His lips found his way to Vegeta's once more then traveled from his jaw line to his chest. Vegeta lay placidly below him.

Finally he found the courage, and the prince shakily brought his hand up to Piccolo's shoulder, urging him on. His mind was fogged, part of him didn't know what was going on, and the part that did was reveling in it. The prince toed off his boots, kicking them aside.

Piccolo unbuttoned and slowly unzipped the Saiyan's jeans, sliding them down his muscled legs, discarding them. One of his hands found its way to Vegeta's lower back finding the small scar that had given him so much pleasure earlier that week. Within a few moments he found his prize and slowly started to massage the little area. Vegeta gasped in response, his hips bucking forward and his shaft growing hard at the green one's touch.

Piccolo both felt and saw this, and smirked to himself. He moved to take off the last obstructing material that kept him from his ultimate goal. But a slender hand stopped him. It traveled up his arm to the dark material of his gi and tugged. Apparently, Vegeta didn't think it fair that he should be the only one unclothed. Piccolo sat up and quickly removed his clothing. Without hesitation he pressed himself up against the smaller man beneath him, delighting in the smooth cool feeling of the Saiyan's skin against his own. He kissed him once more to drown the moan that threatened to burst from his lips. His left hand traveled back to the tail spot, while the right began to tug off Vegeta's boxers. Vegeta, more vocal, moaned deeply and pressed himself into the Namek above him.

To the prince's utter astonishment he felt himself collide with another rock hard shaft. He didn't think Nameks were endowed this way. He assumed, since they produced on their own accord, that they would have no use for such anatomical appendages. It was a surprise but a pleasant one, and more importantly, one he could take advantage of.

His hand quickly snaked down between them and took hold of the thick member. Piccolo gasped and nearly fell on the Saiyan below him. Vegeta began to pump him slowly. The Namek saw stars; he had never, ever felt anything like this before. He looked down at the prince, noting the pleased smirk on his face. Piccolo returned the look and with a raised brow pressed the tail spot with more force. It was the Saiyan's turn to gasp, and while doing so he let go of Piccolo's length. The taller warrior took the opportunity and slid down out of Vegeta's reach, until his nose was level with the Saiyan's shaft.

Already a slight stream of pre-cum was glistening down the head and pooling at the base. Piccolo wasted no time, his tongue eagerly lapped up the sticky liquid, savoring the slightly sweet taste of it. He felt the Prince shudder wonderfully beneath him in response. Gradually, he wrapped his lips around the length, taking care to watch that his sharp canines didn't graze the sensitive flesh. Vegeta moaned loudly, he fought the urge to thrust into the Namek's mouth, for he had no desire to choke him. The assault on his tail spot and his engorged sex was driving him over the edge, if this kept up he wasn't going to last much longer.

Piccolo bobbed his head, taking more and more of the heavy length in his mouth with each stroke. Vegeta's moans became louder and when his back arched dramatically, something told Piccolo it was time to stop. So he backed off, but not without a protesting sound from the prince. It was now the Namek's turn, his own sex screaming for relief. Instincts leading him on, he placed two fingers in his mouth wetting them thoroughly and ever so stealthy he placed them against Vegeta's opening.

The Saiyan's eyes shot open wide and he scooted away a few inches. Piccolo cocked his head and looked the prince in the eyes, searching them.

"Trust me."

Vegeta looked long and hard at the larger man above him. Without tearing his gaze away, he took a deep breath and settled back onto the ground. A small smile curled the Namek's lips and he bent down and kissed him softly while his fingers caressed the small opening.

When they broke for air, Vegeta inhaled deeply and willed himself to completely relax his muscles. Slowly, Piccolo inserted a finger. The smaller man concentrated on his breathing, trying not to tense up.

Piccolo moved the digit back and forth until the Saiyan grew accustomed to it, then he inserted a second and repeated the process. Something whispered to him in his brain; it sounded odd, but he did as he was instructed and crooked his fingers finding a smooth little patch deep within the Saiyan. He pressed it.

"Oh!"

Vegeta flew up beneath him, nearly coming off the ground. Thinking that he had hurt him, Piccolo hastily made to remove his fingers, but the prince's hand suddenly snapped around his wrist.

"Don't stop," he commanded, "Do..." his breath coming out in pants, "Do that again."

"What?" he asked, "This?" He repeated the action and ran his fingertips over the small spot again, pressing down.

"Gods yes!" Vegeta cried, his head flying back. He raised his hips to settle further into the Namek's hand in an attempt to add more pressure.

Piccolo complied and pressed down harder, reveling as the hips in his grasp thrust into the air. His mouth went dry and his erection throbbed painfully, Gods he had never seen anything so perfect. After a few moments of moving his fingers within the tight ring of muscles, hitting the sweet spot each time, he scissored them.

Vegeta squirmed, it didn't hurt but it wasn't exactly comfortable either. Piccolo sat himself up, while loosening Vegeta he took his free hand and wrapped it around the Saiyan's member. He stroked it a few times, just to make sure the Prince stayed aroused. To his amazement he was as hard if not harder than before. Vegeta's eyes fluttered and he gasped:

"I can't take this much longer."

That was enough for the Namek. He withdrew his fingers and positioned himself over the opening. Something screamed in his mind and he paused just long enough to coat his shaft with a thin layer of saliva before he slowly entered the Saiyan. Vegeta's face twisted into a grimace as the pain hit him. With a steadying hand on the Saiyan's hips he thrust into him to the hilt, quickly capturing Vegeta's cry of soft anguish with his lips. He stilled his body until the elite adapted to his size. After a few moments he felt hands settle on his backside and pull forward and it was then that Piccolo began his thrusts.

It was the sweetest thing he had ever experienced. In all his years, he had never felt anything so beautifully carnal. Vegeta was incredibly tight and hot; the pressure was going to send him over the edge soon. He scooped the prince up in his arms so that he was straddling his lap.

The prince moaned as Piccolo hit the trigger point deep within him over and over, shooting spikes pleasure throughout his body.

The Namek's thrusts were becoming more desperate, his fingers tangling in the Saiyan's hair before one strayed down to assault his tail spot.

Vegeta lost it. He bucked against the Namek. His thick member, now pressed flat against his belly, was pulsating. He wrapped his legs tightly around Piccolo's torso and ground himself against the finely chiseled abs of the man above him. He rocked himself between the fingers teasing his tail spot and the stomach he was thrusting against, the shaft buried deep within him acting as a pendulum between the two. Bolts of ecstasy ripped through his body. Blinding lights exploded before his eyes, and with a deep breath, a deafening howl of ecstasy escaped his throat. His screams echoed in the night as his seed shot from his cock onto his own and the green warrior's stomachs.

The feeling of Vegeta's canal spasming around him accompanied with his erratic cries sent the Namek spiraling. He thrust one final time in the Saiyan's tight heat before he felt himself burst in the prince's body. He buried his head in the crook of the elite's shoulder and cried out as his orgasm overtook him, racking his frame. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed down on him, threatening to shake his entire being apart. The air was sucked from his lungs and he thought for a moment that he would pass out from the sensation.

Finally, the waved ebbed and his mind could function once again. Breathing heavily, he pulled out of the Saiyan and fell backwards in exhaustion, pulling the prince with him. Vegeta panted a moment before he nestled himself as best he could on top of the Namek and let sleep claim him. Piccolo, not one to argue, shortly followed suit.


	9. Chapter 9 Explanations

Chapter Nine: Explanations

The Northern breeze swept down from the mountains, rustling the dark foliage of the forest floor. Leisurely, the sun made its steady path unto the horizon, its golden rays hitting the face of the sleeping Namek as it made its ascent. Piccolo's eyes slowly opened.

The first thing he saw was the white foaming water of the falls. He perched himself on his shoulder and let his eyes sweep the horizon. Nothing of much interest to note; birds making their annoying noises in the trees, a fish making a vain attempt to eat a dragonfly that was hovering a few inches above the water, the wind rustling a nearby plant; all simply signs of an awakening forest. It then dawned on him that he was alone. His eyes quickly darted around the area. Vegeta was gone, as were his clothes.

Immediately, Piccolo snapped to attention. With a crackle of light his training gi was replaced and he was on his feet. A stab of dread pierced his chest. He fought the on-rushing wave of awareness of the past night's events and forced his mind to calm. Vegeta was gone. Either fled for whatever reason-and there were oh so many-or his grief engulfed him and he did something drastic.

Piccolo's first objective was to locate the prince, so at least he knew which one of these options to torture himself over. However, there was no need for such a search. The tall warrior's acute hearing picked up the soft sounds of breathing from the south. The Namek slowly turned towards the noise. Unconsciously, he backed up a step at the sight before him.

In the darkness of the shadows about 25 feet in the distance, on an ancient stone, the prince knelt. One of his legs was crossed, while the other was tightly drawn to his chest. His powerful arms rested at either side of his body with his hands perched on the rock face as if he were ready to leap. But it was his eyes that unsettled the Namek. Set in the expressionless statue that was Vegeta's face; deep black orbs pierced through the tall warrior like staves. No longer clouded by grief and exhaustion, they shone like pools of ink, blacker than pitch. He said nothing, nor did he move.

Piccolo, regaining his composure, returned the Saiyan's stare with his own onyx eyes, his mouth set in a grim line.

Seconds passed that seemed like hours. Finally, the Saiyan opened his mouth to speak, the words spilling forth in a cold controlled voice, raining on the Namek like ice.

"What took place last night should not have happened, Piccolo."

The green warrior somehow managed to keep his facial expression as stony as before, but inside he felt his being twist with pain. He wasted no time on wondering why the statement hurt. He would fence with his petty emotions at a later time… if there was a later time.

When Vegeta received no answer or explanation, he bent forward intently, his eyes boring into the tall one before him. But Piccolo stood his ground, even though he knew Vegeta could and probably was going to kill him. Shivers ran up and down his spine, but he disregarded them, never tearing his ebony eyes away from the Prince's.

He stared him down, this Saiyan before him was the root of all the chaos that swam in his mind... and his heart, making him feel things he didn't want to, didn't think himself capable of, and he hated him for it. The spite manifested in his expression as the muscle in his jaw twitched.

His fists clenched in fury. How dare he! How dare he ruin his perfect world, shatter his unsullied peace, and make him feel weak, useless emotions. Did he not come to his rescue? Did he not pick up his tattered body from the mire of the Earth? Heal his wounds, spoon feed him like an infant even? All so he wouldn't die, wouldn't leave. Did he not befriend him when the majority of the world turned their backs, out of spite, out of fear? Was he not there to listen to all his frustrations?

Countless times he assured him that he'd adapt to Earth. That although it sucked, he'd learn to live with it, maybe even grow to like it. Did he not do these things without thought or hesitation? Yes. He had done all of these things. So why did he deserve this?

Ungrateful bastard. Is this the thanks he gets? He does all he could possibly do to help the oh so mighty prince adapt to this mud ball of a planet'- saves his life even. And in return?... He gets these damn emotions. These horrendous emotions that caused him to commit such a shameful act, that caused his soul to wrench in pain at the elite's statement of regret. The green man's eyes narrowed abruptly, anger boiling over within him.

Never seeing him look so ominous before, the prince blinked despite himself. He snorted and looked at the ground, then quickly looked back at the Namek. Unnervingly, his expression was still the same, but that didn't deter him.

"Why?"

It was a simple question, but one Piccolo wasn't prepared to answer. He didn't want to, and he couldn't. He couldn't even ask the question of himself. His anger vanished and was replaced with a deep feeling of disgrace. Pushing his feelings aside, he crossed his arms and turned his back to the Saiyan, an extremely bold move. Vegeta could kill him if he wished and he wouldn't raise a finger to stop him. In fact he felt that he more than deserved it. He raised his ki preparing to take flight.

"I need not explain my actions to you," he said sharply. "I do what I please to whom I please."

It was a phrase he hadn't uttered in years, long before his fusion with Kami or Nail. He began to float a few inches off the ground, he may die this day but he'd be damned if he would humiliate himself further. He looked over his shoulder and gave Vegeta an evil smile barring his sharp canines in the process. With venom-filled words he spoke;

"It's not my problem if you were too weak to stop me. If you didn't care for it you should have done something more than lay on your back like a placid little sop." An incongruous chuckle, "It's your own damn fault, princy."

He figured if he was going to go down it might as well be with a bang. He both heard and felt Vegeta's ki skyrocket. Ignoring the deadly Saiyan behind him, Piccolo took off in the air.

A steel-like hand wrapped around his ankle and violently pulled him back towards the ground. Bright turquoise eyes met with his. Vegeta was inches from his face, he could feel the pulsating heat of his aura and he needn't look up to know Vegeta's once raven hair was now a shimmering shade of gold. They both floated closely above the ground, the Prince floating a foot or so higher, rage clearly etched on his face. Piccolo not being a coward stared boldly into his executioner's eyes, willing him to make his move. His mind quickly flashed back upon his life, his regrets and his victories, both evil and virtuous deeds. He briefly wondered where his soul would go.

A few days before, he thought he had done enough good in his life to override the amoral behavior of his youth, well he hoped. Now, he wasn't so sure. He was going to find out soon enough. Vegeta's eyes narrowed and Piccolo held his breath waiting for the death blow.

"Retarded Namek!" the prince bellowed. "That's not what I was talking about!"

Piccolo let out the breath, his eyes flying open.

"Huh?"

"You're a fucking idiot." Vegeta let out an exasperated sigh, his hair and eyes returning to their normal dark shade. He cocked his head studying the Namek, trying to decide whether or not he should explain himself, finally;

"What I meant was, was that last night shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have been able to..." neatly edging off at this point. "I'm bonded," he explained. "When Saiyans bond they physically can't be with someone other than their mate. It's impossible!" He shook his head in a mix of frustration and confusion. "It's complicated, but to make a long story short, I should not have been physically able to do anything with you last night."

"Could have fooled me."

Not the brightest statement in the world, but it was the only one Piccolo's overwhelmed brain could think of.

Vegeta rolled his eyes, and then shook his head attempting to gather his thoughts. They backed away opposite each other, silently contemplating, attempting to make sense of the situation. The Namek, finally regaining his wits, looked thoughtful.

Vegeta eyed him.

"What?"

"Well," he started, "If what you say is true, then explain Bulma's recent behavior."

They Saiyan's face darkened.

"Bulma's human. I thought that wouldn't matter. I thought that the bond would still hold between the both of us. But I guess it didn't pan out that way, turned out that it was one-sided."

Somewhat sorry he brought it up, Piccolo slightly steered the conversation in another direction.

"Bear with me here... Bonding?"

The prince looked at him in disbelief.

"Surely you've heard of it."

With an insulted look Piccolo sneered.

"No shit."

He landed on the ground, Vegeta following him. "Yes, I've heard of it." He conveniently left out that Nameks have their own form of bonding, "It's just that I've never understood it to cause individuals to be faithful to one another."

The Saiyan Prince, now assured, nodded.

"Yes. There is a psychic link from one person to another, tying them together. Desires for all others vanish. Even over long distances you can still feel your mate at all times."

"So what? Can you read each other's minds or something?" Piccolo asked, his curiosity piqued.

"No, its not like that…just get impressions, like if they're happy or sad. Emotional states, or if they're in danger." Then it dawned on him.

"Oh."

Piccolo looked questionably at the prince whose face went pale.

"What?"

Vegeta was speechless for a moment or two. He shook his head and leaned against a nearby tree.

"I haven't been able to feel her in the last 7 months. I just shrugged it off." He chuckled sourly. "Man, what an idiot I was. I thought that the bond was just taking its time re-establishing itself after I was revived from the battle with Buu. I never thought...I didn't think her capable of it." He leaned his head back against the bark behind him, "She had some sort of bond with me; she told me she felt it when I died, that she had a sharp pain, like she could literally feel my death. However, when I was revived, she was detached, distant, like I was a stranger. Was that pain she felt her weakened part of the bond ending? Dying at my passing?" He mulled over the question for a moment before continuing.

"My part of the bond still held strong, then all of a sudden it just wasn't there anymore. One night, whoosh, it was gone. That must have been the night..." he trailed off, pain seeping into his voice. "That she was first with _him_," he finished with a vile snap. "But I ignored it like a fool. How could I have been so stupid?"

Piccolo shrugged.

"I agree, you are stupid."

This earned a glare.

The younger warrior quickly added to his statement.

"But not for that. You trusted her and loved her as you should have done. No one can blame you for that."

Vegeta crossed his arms.

"Would have made this easier if I hadn't." He went from leaning to sitting on the soft earth. "Yes, I loved her, very much so."

Whatever inspired Piccolo to ask the question he was about to ask was beyond him. He cursed himself for turning into such a sentimental fool. Yet, he could curse himself into a corner; it wasn't going to make a difference he still would ask.

"Loved? That's past tense."

Vegeta nodded.

"Yes, I know what I said. I did love her, but I can't forgive what she did. It's not in me. I admit I still care about her, and yesterday I would have sworn up and down that I would die without her. But now," he shrugged slightly, "it doesn't hurt so bad. I awoke this morning and the pain was nearly gone. It still aches," he admitted, "but I think I'll be able to move on." He shook his head at the thought.

"In the past two weeks I haven't even been able to function, it's like I just woke up and realized that what we had between us had died long ago. She wasn't happy, and to be honest, neither was I. Funny, I thought I was. I was never sure, but I thought so." He looked questionably at the tall warrior who stood before him.

"But this morning I woke up with a deep sense of ...peace, of all things."

Piccolo backed up, this was getting weird.

"You mean, this" he motioned between himself and the warrior, "doesn't bother you? That what happened between you and I doesn't freak you out in the least? That you had...that you," he became flustered, " mated' with another guy?"

Vegeta looked stunned, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Without warning, he threw back his head and laughed.

Piccolo was not amused, not in the least. Shocked perhaps, but not amused.

The prince's small frame shook with mirth he was laughing so hard. The Namek crossed his arms, soundly pissed off. Vegeta cracked open an eye and noticed his friend's demeanor. He managed to more or less control himself.

"Piccolo, you've been on Earth waaaaay too long."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

A few more chuckles.

"Admittedly, I do find this whole situation a bit strange, but not because of that."

The look on Piccolo's face was priceless; it nearly caused him to have another outburst of laughter.

"What! You mean this whole time you've been gay!"

That did it. Vegeta rolled to one side and went into hysterics. This was the funniest damn thing he had ever encountered and it had felt like a lifetime since he last had a good laugh.

Now Piccolo was full-blown angry.

"What the hell is so fucking funny?" he asked softly, too softly.

Vegeta wiped an eye and looked up at him, realizing just how angry the Namek was.

He straightened.

"Oh calm down." He suppressed a few more chuckles. "I'm sorry, it's just that I didn't think you so naive, that's all. Gay?" he asked lightly, "Keep in mind, Piccolo, that I was just recently married' and I have a son from that union."

"So you're bi."

Vegeta bit his tongue.

"You really need to get off of this planet."

Again, Piccolo was not amused.

"What do you mean, Vegeta?" he growled in annoyance.

The prince took a calming breath before beginning.

"Other than a few sparse places here and there, this is the only planet out of all the hundreds I have been to in my life that have such rules' about who you can and cannot bond to. My very own home planet had a very low population of females, so bonds between males were a very common occurrence. Hell, I was even told that some of the females bonded with one another. It's not a big deal. As I said this is the only planet that seems to think it is." He grinned, "I have seen, over the passing of the years, that you've adopted this misgiving, as well as Earth's many other blunders." He laughed, "Man you really are an Earthling."

Piccolo shook his head in disbelief; he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He leaned back against the rock Vegeta had been sitting on earlier, trying to absorb all that the Saiyan had said to him.

Vegeta watched him, then quirked an eyebrow.

"Now I have a question for you."

Piccolo looked at him.

"What?"

A smirk.

"If Nameks produce asexually, then why do you have one of those?" he said jabbing a finger in the direction of Piccolo's pants.

The green warrior rolled his eyes; it was going to be a very long day


	10. Chapter 10 Dark Wind

Chapter Ten: Dark Wind

"You're awful chatty today."

A small grin.

"I'm sorry but I couldn't _help _but notice."

Piccolo felt a blush creep across his cheeks. Quickly turning away, he looked at the sky, studying the clouds as they drifted overhead. Vegeta also looked up, his mind starting to drift with the motion of the white fluffy mediums. So much had happened to him; his world had been shattered then abruptly put right in a matter of moments. Before he could think further, his thoughts were interrupted.

"Do you really want to know?"

Vegeta looked in the direction of the Namek. He had his back to him, and was still looking at the same clouds as he. The Saiyan returned his gaze to the sky.

"I asked didn't I?"

"Very well, but I don't know the exact story so—"

_'Don't worry,' _a voice in his head cut in unbidden, '_I'll fill you in on the gaps.' _

"Oh hell, not you again."

Vegeta looked abruptly at Piccolo.

"What?"

Piccolo shook his head, "Kami," he clarified.

The prince nodded. On a few rare occasions he had witnessed the conversations that took place between Piccolo and Kami, and even Nail. But the conversation was always one sided, as he could only hear Piccolo's responses.

In actuality, it was rather disturbing to watch. Piccolo would mutter to himself then speak back, either in his mind or out loud, not necessarily in any order. It was like watching one of those crazies downtown who would walk around aimlessly muttering and screaming incoherently, apparently speaking to 'god'. What was ironic was the fact that Piccolo, in a sense, i _was /i _speaking to god: Kami, the last protector and overseer of Earth. Vegeta never really got to meet him, and according to Piccolo he was 'damned lucky'. He was quite aware of the younger Namek's dislike of his older and more wholesome counterpart.

Dislike, yes, but tolerable, although you would never think so with the look of annoyance etched upon the green man's face.

"Fine, I got it...yeah so?...what of it?...you're crossing the line...what...no...no...yes, fine! now go away!...Yes! Are you deaf?"

Piccolo suddenly turned around, "Right, now according to the wizened one."

_'Watch it, young one.' _

Ignoring the statement Piccolo continued, "Long ago, on the Namekian home world, before Guru and even Kitat, there was a great storm. This was the mother of all storms, mind you, and it nearly destroyed the planet itself. Millions died and the few who managed to survive led a bleak existence. At that time, Nameks were not as they are today, they suffered from the weakness of hunger and lacked the healing and regenerating powers they now have."

The Saiyan listened intently, noting that Piccolo still referred to the Namekians as 'they' instead of 'us'. Apparently after all of these years he still found it difficult to consider himself anything other than an Earthling.

"There was also another difference. There was another sect of Namekians, _female _Namekians. Seemingly, the Nameks once produced as you Saiyans and Earthlings do. However, the storm had knocked off a good portion of them. Then the environment violently changed, whether or not this caused the new diseases, I have no clue. But a virus duly named the 'Black Wind' attacked the females' immune system. Kami's not too clear on why it affected only the females, he guesses that it had something to do with chemicals in the hormonal system."

Piccolo shrugged, "Anyway, to make a long story short, all of the females eventually died, and soon after the rest started going as well. Yet a group of 'mages', I guess is the best term to use for them, somehow summoned the power and harnessed the energy needed to create the Dragonballs. Although at the time it was in pure raw energy. In desperation they used the power not to create the orbs needed to summon the Dragon, for there was no time. Instead they used the energy on themselves, and changed their bodies so they could survive long enough to create the Dragonballs. The need for food vanished, and they gained the ability of regeneration. But most importantly, they were now able to reproduce without the presence of a female. By the time the Dragonballs had been constructed, not too many were still alive who could remember the females well enough to want to wish them back." He paused and shrugged, "Besides, the new form of the Namekians was working well enough so why go back to the way it used to be? So they went on living as they were and now are." Piccolo cocked his head,

"Well that's the story in a nutshell, so does that answer your question?"

Vegeta nodded.


	11. Chapter 11 Musings of a Prince

Chapter Eleven: Musings of a Prince

The day drifted by lazily, the heat of mid summer cooling as evening approached. The two warriors went their separate ways for a time; the Saiyan off to find food, the Namek to meditate in seclusion in a field to the east of the mountainside.

The tall warrior floated cross-legged a few feet above the rustling grass, his cape fluttering out behind him like a bloodless phantom. Twilight cast her shadows across his sharp features, masking part of his face in the darkness while the other glowed in the soft hues of the setting sun.

Vegeta, who had pushed his ki down, watched him with steadfast interest and more than a little wonderment. He had returned, now that his stomach was full, intending to tell Piccolo that it was time to return to the Lookout. Dende was having trouble with one of the boundaries, or some such nonsense; he had only listened with half an ear.

But now he stood transfixed, unable to deliver his message. His mind was still in a state of utter bewilderment. The entire day he had pushed the feelings aside and been successful, but now it was time to face reality.

He simply couldn't believe it, Piccolo of all people; he hadn't a clue. Sure, he was a comrade. All right, let's be honest, the only person Vegeta would openly admit was a close friend. All the others were Bulma's. His only role was to be civil and not beat the living shit out of them if they got on his nerves. He liked them mildly he supposed, but he'd never admit to it, why would he? They were happy-go-lucky freeloaders in his mind. Yet, he was the one seen as the freeloader, 'using' poor Bulma for her technology and home and whatever else you care to insert here. Stupid fools! But they were good people who had good intentions with nary a worry or care. He often wondered what it would be like to be so insouciant; he imagined he'd float away from being so air headed.

Over the years they had learned to accept him. It had been a hard and arduous journey but he managed to 'fit in' more or less. And he had to admit, it was a more peaceful life, certainly more welcome than the brutal lifestyle he had lived before.

He chuckled at the memory of everyone's initial fear of him. Krillen had been terrified of him. He'd say jump, Krillen would ask how high, how fast, and what would you like me to sing while I'm doing it? But now, just a few weeks ago, the once timid monk had told the terrifying Saiyan to remove the stick from his butt, relax, and enjoy the show when they had all gone to one of those silly baseball games. Vegeta grinned despite himself; Krillen had finally gained a spine after so many years. The prince suspected it had something to do with that wife of his. Yes, Krillen was a good guy. Yamcha wasn't so bad if you could overlook his licentious behavior; this also went for the talking pig and that dirty perv Roshi. Gohan was a nice kid and good-natured like his father, but, as his son would so eloquently put it, he had turned out to be an utter 'dweeb'.

Nonetheless, he found himself looking after him here and there during Kakarott's seven year absence. This also went for Goten, whom he considered a second son. The boy was over at Capsule Corporation all the time. So much in fact, that Vegeta took it upon himself to train him further than what his mother initially taught him.

Then there was Kakarott himself; the idiotic fool he would someday defeat, the stupid bastard he would one day make bow before him, the asinine moron he would continually risk his life to save. Among the feelings of rivalry, jealousy, hatred, indifference, and admiration, there was a shred of what could be called friendship. But Vegeta would die a thousand deaths before admitting to it.

Kakarott was so simple, in every way, shape, and form. Regardless, he believed the Earth-raised Saiyan wasn't as dumb as he let on; as if somehow, his idiotic behavior was all a front. Of course, he would then do something so outlandishly stupid that Vegeta mentally slapped himself for ever thinking the thought. Apart from his lack of intelligence, Kakarott was the most pure-hearted, good-intentioned person he had ever met. All of them were in their own way.

He could understand them to a degree but they never were able to grasp him; well all except one. Piccolo. Now there was someone he could relate to. He had heard stories of the Namek's hell-bent quest to kill Kakarott and his intention to take over the world to rule supreme. Understandable, Vegeta could associate with this, but Piccolo had gone down his own onerous path and ended up one of the good guys. Yet, he had done so alone without anyone supporting him or giving him advice. Vegeta admired him greatly for this. He had Bulma holding his hand the entire time, and the Namek was always available to listen to complaints and give him counsel. Sure, he had people doubting him along the way—still did for that matter— but Piccolo had the entire world against him. Well, all but for one young boy.

Gohan was the first to break the Demon Lord's obstinate defenses. He had given him a reason to start to give a damn about the people who dared to breathe the same air as he. Vegeta wondered if he and Nappa hadn't decided to come to Earth, if Piccolo would have remained the villain he once was. He shook the thought; he had never really been able to picture the Namek as a cold-hearted monster.

He watched the green warrior now, one half shadowed and one half glowing from the rays of the setting sun. Darkness claiming one side, light the other. Although Piccolo had a sharp tongue and a cagey personality, in the end he always did what was right. Yet another reason to favor him. Piccolo was one of the few he knew on this planet who was reasonable. He thought things through before acting in battle and otherwise.

This morning, however, he got a completely different impression. The Namek had been the picture of malevolence, arming himself with cruel words and even crueler intentions. Vegeta knew that this was a façade. Piccolo had taken what he had said the wrong way and was trying to scrape his dignity together while throwing up his defenses. However, it was a damn good façade. If the Saiyan hadn't known him as long as he had he would have been fooled by it.

Yet, this whole situation confused the hell out of him. He knew Piccolo considered him a friend, but he never came off as anything but. Why had Piccolo done what he had done, and why did the prince allow him to do it? Why did he not regret it? He couldn't fathom it. Piccolo? True, gender or even species were never an issue with the Saiyan Prince. He had grown up without the bigotries of planet Earth. Your mate was whomever you felt close to, whomever you wanted to share your existence with. Granted they were worthy of you, of course.

Not that he had any previous experience before Bulma; Frieza's rules were strict on this matter. He believed love, lust, and sentimentality in general were distracting. Vegeta had, at the time, fully agreed with him. In his youth he considered romance a bunch of bullshit; a weakness whose useless deceptions only guaranteed procreation. And he had thought Piccolo felt the same way about it

Seemingly, he had guessed wrong but what of his own feelings? Yes, his i _feelings /i _; his lip curled in a display of self-disgust. How soft was he getting? He blamed the planet out of habit. Certainly, Piccolo was indeed a good friend, the best in fact. He was always there to be trusted and relied upon. He had just recently brought him back from the brink of death, and last night he had eased his pain…considerably.

Vegeta thought he was going to die from the anguish. Nothing would ever make life worth living again. Bulma was the world to him, how could he possibly go on without her? But Piccolo—physical actions aside— had done something to him that changed his very core.

He felt at complete ease, something he never had experienced before. And his eyes were open and focused, not clouded by anxiety as they had been. He wasn't going to fool himself; it still hurt. But the pain was steadly receding and Bulma was… fading. He still cared about her, very much so, but she was slipping from his heart. And to be honest, he was ready to let her go. This serene feeling that had descended upon him was euphoric in its newness. Ease, in all its simplicity, was a luxury he hadn't experienced often.

Ease perhaps, but an awkward one. His feelings for the Namek that were once cut and dried were now jumbled. Needless to say his regard for him had risen substantially. But how much? Naturally, he felt closer to him, but what were the intentions behind it? And now that we're asking, how did he know what he was doing? He seemed to know exactly where he was going and took great steps of care along the way. More importantly, the greatest question of all; why did he care? Why in the hell did the Prince of the Saiyan race concern himself with any of this?

If he had any wits left he would pack up his belongings and get the hell off of this infernal planet once and for all. Damn them all, they could go to hell in a hand-basket for all he cared. Fuck 'em. However, this was his arrogance speaking. He had ties here other than Bulma; his son, for instance. A matter all in itself, but one that would have to be dealt with later. No, he couldn't just leave, that would be running away and he had gone down the coward's path once, he wasn't about to go down it again. Besides, he honestly didn't want to leave. He liked Earth...sort of. And he was a bit more than curious to see what the hell was going on between himself and the meditating warrior before him.

He shook his head, this was giving him a headache and it was only going to get worse unless he did something about it. Piccolo had gracefully dodged the question earlier, but it wasn't going to happen again. So, without further hesitation;

"Why?"

The Namek jerked, startled at the sudden intrusion. He scolded himself for not sensing the elite. It was then he noticed Vegeta's ki was pushed down. So he was being spied on and now he was asking that damn question he had feared all day. One he knew had to be answered, but one he couldn't think of a response to.

The Namek cracked opened an eye, Vegeta stood there looking at him expectantly. He looked unusually more, the only word Piccolo could think of was human. Perhaps human was the wrong word. Relaxed? Not the ready to leap at any moment and break your neck overbearing Saiyan demeanor. The white t-shirt, faded jeans, and sneakers he wore certainly added to the whole 'earthling' persona. Apparently, when he returned to the Lookout he had changed along with obtaining something to eat.

His black eyes swept over him once more, taking in more detail. His arms were crossed over his powerful chest, but this was the usual. It was his face, or more appropriately, his eyes that looked different. They were soft and full of something Piccolo couldn't name if his life depended on it.

His musings were cut short when the man before him raised a questioning brow. With a heavy sigh he floated down to the ground and settling himself on grass.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask that question of me today."

Vegeta walked closer and took a seat next to him. Piccolo, perhaps hoping to dodge the question again, muttered something about a fire and gathering wood and started to get up. The prince narrowed his eyes and unfolded his arms. Without breaking his gaze from the Namek he pointed a finger at a small patch of bramble; a thin beam quickly shot from his fingertip and caught. Soon, a fire was blazing cheerfully between them. Piccolo cursed under his breath and sat back down.

"Just answer it."

The tall warrior growled. He scowled at the prince. Flatly,

"I don't know."

Vegeta cocked his head.

"You don't know?" he repeated slowly. "What? Did the mood just strike you?" he asked derisively.

Piccolo narrowed his eyes slightly, his lips pursing.

"Why did you let me?" he asked throwing the question.

Vegeta waved a hand in the air dismissively, "Quit running from the question. I asked you first. Answer me then, perhaps," he added, "I'll answer you."

A snort.

"How convenient."

"Isn't it? Now answer the question."

Piccolo shook his head in frustration. He didn't know what to say, his feelings were muddled, and what he did know of them he would never admit. What could he say? That he's in love with him? How preposterous, inane even.

"Look," he said shortly, "I don't know what to tell you. I can't give you a reason why I did it, because I don't know myself. I've been asking myself this question all day. I haven't found the answer yet."

The prince knew the green warrior was withholding information. Fine then, he'd root him out. Psychological games were his forte.

"Fair enough, but let me ask you this," he said, leaning forward. "You thought I was going to kill you earlier today, didn't you?"

"Yes," he said indifferently, stating a fact.

"And you weren't going to do anything to stop me, were you?" he asked in admonishment.

"No."

"And why not?" he scolded.

Piccolo shook his head, he felt like he was being chided like a little kid. He suddenly developed a new empathy for Trunks. Apparently Vegeta was in dad mode. It was a tad insulting. He rolled his eyes.

"Hmm," he pondered bringing his hand to his chin, "because I felt the world was simply too much to bear. I can't handle the pressures of society; I'll never fit in with all the other kids." In an over dramatic tone; "I just felt that I had to end it all! I can't even afford to support my alcohol problem anymore."

"Asshole!" Vegeta spat at him, interrupting his riposte.

"I'm not your son, Vegeta. Quit speaking to me as if I were."

It was then he realized the tone of voice he'd been using. He wasn't used to wheedling things out of adults. He shook his head a little embarrassed.

"Sorry, habit."

Piccolo grunted.

"Why were you going to let me finish you without a fight? That's not like you at all."

"Because...because," his voice grew agitated. "I deserved it!" Frustration and anger seeped into his voice, "What I did was unacceptable. I let my emotions get the better of me and I lost control." He seethed, absolutely furious with himself, "It shouldn't have happened."

Vegeta's black eyes shot up. He didn't like that statement, not one bit. Why? Because it hurt. He was extremely pissed at himself, since when did he become such an idealistic fool? He was a prince, such behavior was unseemly; he had never been so easily swayed with Bulma. The next question popped out of his mouth without thought, and he instantly regretted it. But it wasn't going to do him a lick of good, what was said was said.

"Are you saying you regret it?"

Piccolo's eyes narrowed in confusion, was that a hint of desperation in Vegeta's tone?

"Do you?"

Vegeta blinked; the Namek kept throwing his questions back at him, it was unnerving.

_Fine, _he thought uncharitably, i _'if this is the way he wants to play, so be it. _

He sat up straight and tilted his head to look at the dark sky, becoming positively regal in that one swift motion. Then without warning he looked Piccolo dead in the eye.

"No," he said with conviction, "I don't."

He could have laughed at the look on his companion's face. The Namek looked as if he had swallowed a bird. He considered just leaving the statement hanging, but he wanted answers. So he generously provided a further explanation.

"You kept your promise to me. You made the pain go away." His eyes didn't waver as they bored into the taller man across from him, "That is why I allowed it. Not only that," he paused, "but it opened my eyes at the same time. So no, I don't regret it."

Piccolo was completely thrown off guard. He hadn't expected that, not in a million years. He anticipated some off hand comment that would lead to another off hand comment and so on and so forth, not a point blank answer. Vegeta was breaking the rules of the little game he had been playing. He was hoping to see who could frustrate the other into giving up and leaving.

So much for games. The answer itself was beyond his reasoning. He stared at him, dumbfounded.

Finally, the prince spoke; his voice steady, his expression unreadable.

"I answered your question, Piccolo. Both of them. Now answer mine."

The Namek looked away, the ground suddenly becoming very interesting. He shut his eyes. This was the most difficult conversation he had ever had. After what seemed an endless time, he spoke in a soft whisper. Vegeta had to lean forward just to hear him.

"No, is the answer. I would only regret it if you did. As for why?" He paused, steeling his nerves. "I couldn't stand seeing you like that. It was wrong and unfair. You didn't deserve that, no one does. You were suffering so much… and it was killing me." His voice faltered, sticking in his throat before finally emerging even quieter than before, "I…I couldn't handle seeing you in so much pain… so much anguish. I had to do something, I'm your friend, aren't I?" The question was rhetorical apparently because he went on, his words all but stumbling out of his mouth, "I had to make it better some way, and...that was the first way that came to mind. Perhaps because it wasn't only you I was trying to comfort, but myself. I felt so helpless, I hated it, the pain was unbearable. My emotions got the best of me, and I did what I did. And when you didn't protest...it...it overjoyed…" He stopped, not daring to look up and see the expression on the Saiyan's face. "I just let my emotions take over for once in my life and that's what happened, Vegeta, that is why."

Vegeta stared at the Namek, mouth hanging open. He didn't know what to say or how to feel. He had no idea, no clue, it was this deep. He matched Piccolo's soft tone.

"How long have you felt—?"

"A long time. I think I'm just now beginning to realize how long."

Vegeta followed the Namek's example and stared at the ground. He hadn't expected this, he didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't this. Suddenly, Piccolo stood up and began to walk away.

The prince spoke quickly, unchecked;

"You don't have to go."

"I need to."

"Don't run…" he trailed off.

Piccolo chanced a glance over his shoulder, Vegeta was on his feet looking at him with an unreadable expression.

"I'm not," he assured, "I just need to think alone for awhile. Besides," he murmured, "I'm sure you have your own thoughts to sort through."

Vegeta nodded, relieved that the Namek would be back.

Piccolo turned, intent on his previous path, but the prince spoke halting his steps once again.

"You know," Vegeta's voice floated quietly on the wind. The younger warrior found it wondrous that he was even more captivating when he spoke softly like this. He stopped and turned to face him. The elite was looking at the ground, his fists curled to his sides as if he was having difficulty coming to terms with what ever it was he was about to say.

Finally, he raised his head and looked at him humbly, then, unexpectedly, flashed him a weak smile.

"I was going to ask you to join us. I never told you that, but it's true. I was going to ask you to join Nappa and I. I was impressed with you," he confessed. "True, you weren't as strong as us at the time, but I admired your sharp tongue." His face darkened, "But when he fired that blast I didn't expect you to run in front of Gohan like that." He paused, a look of remorse flickering across his features, "I'm sorry that it happened, I'm sorry for all of it."

Piccolo returned his wan smile. Vegeta never spoke of their first encounter; it was a forbidden subject. Besides, he wasn't that person anymore. And now was the first time he had ever apologized for his attack on Earth.

"Vegeta," he said, his voice warming, "if it wasn't for Gohan, I would have jumped at your invitation. And as for your apology," he inclined his head, "I accept."

Vegeta's smile broadened, and he nodded in thanks.

Piccolo turned once more and walked off into the distance.


	12. Chapter 12 Unwelcome Conversations

Chapter Twelve: Unwelcome Conversations

'_Ha ha...well look who cracked.'_

"Shut-up."

'_My, that went better than planned I must say.' _

"Must you?"

'_Yes, I must.' _A lyrical laugh. Piccolo scowled at the sound of it, Nail was always so annoying when he was right about something. The Namek growled.

'_Oh now, such anger. I thought you would have been in a good mood considering last night. Oh by the way, I hope you appreciated the guidance, I knew you didn't have a clue about what you were doing, so I decided to help.'_

"So that was you and not Kami. That's somewhat of a relief."

'_Yes, I thought you would be relieved by that information. Kami felt his guidance would have been invasive.'_

"Oh, but you were just fine with it."

'_Why yes. For a Saiyan he has a nice body...very nice,'_ the voice all but leered, _'I personally prefer Namekians, though. Still, it was a good show.'_

Piccolo's eyes flew open.

"What! You were watching!"

'_Duh. How else was I supposed to guide you. If I let you do it on your own terms, you would have ripped him in two—'_

"Stop it! Gods, must you be so graphic?"

More of that lyrical laughter that drove Piccolo insane.

'_Oh calm down. I'm just messing with you. I'm respective of your privacy.'_

"The hell you are!"

If Nail heard the statement, he chose to ignore it.

'_So tell me,'_ he asked, _'How does if feel now that you've jumped the fence?'_

Piccolo stood up and started to pace quickly, as if his hurried steps would somehow throw his talkative counterpart out of his head.

"You're really starting to piss me off."

Nail chuckled to himself, enjoying every second. Although, he was more or less just a small part of the Namek who calls himself Piccolo, every once in awhile when the tall warrior had his defenses down, he could break through and speak. This happened to be one of those times.

'_Since when does my speaking not piss you off, Piccolo? Really, you need to loosen up, I'm only trying to have a bit of fun.' _The chuckling stopped. '_Seriously though, I'm proud of you.'_

Piccolo rolled his eyes. He nearly spit out a nasty remark, but Nail cut him off.

'_Stop it. I know it sounds stupid, but I am. You've come a long way. You gave in to your emotions and it didn't backfire on you like you thought it would.' _He paused, changing gears slightly,_ 'From what I've gathered, Vegeta actually warmed to the idea. He seemed somewhat upset when you said last night shouldn't have happened.'_

"Did he?"

'_I thought so, yes.' _

"Hmm...well at least I wasn't the only one who picked up on that." Piccolo continued his pacing. "Needless to say, I didn't anticipate his reaction, I thought he was going to kill me. This changes everything." He let out a breath, "It will never be the same between us."

'_Is that such a bad thing?'_

He stopped and looked into the night sky.

"I don't know, Nail, it could be. I value the friendship we have, more than you know."

He felt Nail try to make a comment at that declaration, but cut him off. "Yeah, believe it or not, I can hide some things from you. I only wished it worked so well with Kami." He grumbled at the thought, but pushed it aside. "I honestly don't want to lose what we had."

'_What if you could build upon it, make it something more?'_

"Perhaps." He sat down. "All right, I admit that my previous impression of this kind of union was a bit close-minded."

'_Oh please, you were downright hypocritical. 'I'm not gay,' _he mocked,_ 'damn does that Saiyan sure looks good spandex, but I'm not gay.'_ A good-natured chuckle, _'I'd dare to say that you were a bit homophobic. As I told you, Earth is unique in that it's one of the few planets to have such intolerances.'_

"So I've been told."

'_It's not an issue. You were fighting what came naturally to you. You had to have known this. This was one battle you were sure lose.'_

Although Piccolo would never admit it, this was one of the few times he appreciated Nail's presence. Having someone there to support his actions eased his mind, if only a little.

"I'll admit I still find it weird. You have to keep in mind that I was born and raised here and the concept's still new to me. But I'm managing," he surprised himself with that statement. More emotional fodder he'd have to deal with later, but at least this one was positive.

Shrugging it off, he continued, "Putting all of this aside, I'm more worried about Vegeta. I've never been in any sort of bond before. Well there's Gohan," he considered, "but I see him as more of a son. I certainly felt that I had a great hand in raising him," He leaned against a nearby tree, "but other than that, I have gone out of my way to live in solitude, no thanks to you." He didn't allow Nail time to comment; he continued on. "But Vegeta just got out of a bond that lasted over a decade. I'm not so sure he's ready to just jump into another one. He said himself that he found all of this confusing."

'_Ah, but did he not also say that you opened his eyes? Besides, I think the words he used were 'a bit strange'. You **felt **his confusion, he never told you of it.'_

Piccolo's ears perked.

"What do you mean? He said he was confused. I could have sworn he said something about not expecting this to come from me of all people."

'_No, he never said that. You felt it. You're beginning to form a bond with him; you're already picking up on some of his feelings. Keep this up and you'll be able to read his thoughts.'_

"Mind reading? I was under the impression it didn't work that way."

A short laugh.

'_Namekian bonds and Saiyan bonds are two different things. Our bonds are much more advanced. We not only can feel each other's emotions, but we can read each other's minds, and speak to one another telepathically.'_

Piccolo scoffed. Advanced, please. As if they were talking about technological warfare. Nail was overly proud of his Namekian heritage. As such, everything was more 'advanced' or more 'civilized' than Earth or any other planet for that matter. He rolled his eyes. So Saiyan and Namekian bonds were different. Were they compatible was the more important question.

'_I don't see why not. You're not the first Namek to bond outside his race.'_

Piccolo nodded, then it fully dawned on him what they were talking about.

"Wait a minute. Bonding? You mean last night began the bonding process?" A million questions burned through his mind.

At first Nail was overwhelmed by it, but then the younger Namek felt Kami's calming reassurance. The elder did not speak for he felt that Piccolo would shun him and even possibly reverse his open behavior just to spite him. He soothed Nail's mind and urged him to continue to guide the confused warrior on. Nail hesitated a moment, then began the long and arduous process of explaining the whole bonding system.

Piccolo listened intently; finally after a good hour, he spoke out loud.

"So, is this all one sided?"

'_Hard to say. You need to give it time; it's still in early development. Besides, Vegeta needs to fully come to terms with his life first. He has already taken the initial step in admitting that his past bond has been severed. It has been so for awhile now, but there are loose ends that must be tied up. Honestly, Piccolo, I think he's okay with the idea.'_

Piccolo nodded, this was still all too strange for him. Part of him wanted to choke to death on all of the mawkish notions he had been feeling of late. Yet, the other part was inexcusably rhapsodic, an emotion he had never felt before. After awhile, he thanked Nail and politely closed his mind to him. Nail, in turn, politely made no protests.

The Namek closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts. He had unknowingly begun to bond with Vegeta, not something he really regretted. Just to test this newfound development, he sought him out with his senses. First, he detected Vegeta's ki, something he had always been able to do. Vegeta was where he had left him, in the field underneath the Eastern Mountains. He delved deeper within himself and found a link that had not been there before. Slowly, he began to touch upon it. He was somewhat surprised at the new sensations he felt. Not only could he detect Vegeta's whereabouts but he could sense that Vegeta was in good health, alert, and very, very annoyed. Downright angry in fact. Upon sensing this he felt another ki. He couldn't help but smile. He got to his feet and without wasting a second, leapt into the air; this was something he didn't want to miss.

"Aw come on, Vegeta. I was just trying to play with you."

The prince tightened his hold around his intruder's neck.

"Ack...Vegeta...ack...you're choking me."

"That's the idea. I should snap your neck for your sneak attack, Kakarott!"

Goku was helplessly stuck. Vegeta had his arm wrapped securely around his neck and had locked one of his legs with his own. If Goku made any sudden movements the elite could easily apply pressure that would lead to a most uncomfortable experience.

"Look I'm sorry," he gasped. "I won't do it again, promise."

Vegeta unceremoniously let go of his prisoner. Goku stumbled forward, nearly landing on his face.

"Jeeze, you're awfully grouchy."

The Saiyan sneered.

"When people try to jump me from behind it doesn't exactly put me in the best of moods. Now what in the hell do you want?"

Goku, suddenly forgetting that he nearly had been killed, grinned.

"Oh nothing, I just wanted to see how you were doing. I felt your ki and decided to stop by and say hi."

Vegeta mentally slapped himself; he had forgotten that Kakarott lived only a few miles from this location.

"Well you've said it, now go away."

"Oh now. Stop being such a grump. We were really worried about you. Piccolo said that you were in bad shape. We all tried to visit you, but he said you needed your rest."

Vegeta silently thanked the tall Namek. He had been told that after a few days of his initial arrival, the other Z fighters had stopped by the Lookout with the intention of seeing him. However, Piccolo had sent them on their way while the heart-broken Saiyan Prince sulked in his room.

Now the Namek wasn't here to shoo anyone away. However, he could feel him approaching, and with an amused demeanor no less. Vegeta blinked...amused? Realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Well, well, another unexpected development. But he'd worry about that later. Right now, he wanted to get away from this fool, but not without some information first.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Without loosing the goofy smile,

"Well that's good to hear. I was concerned there for a moment; I couldn't sense your ki anywhere. I admit I should have looked longer, but I was worried about Bulma too. I was kinda torn," he said shuffling his feet.

Vegeta shook his head, wondering for the thousandth time how such a twit could be so powerful.

"I figured," Goku persisted, "you were tough enough to be okay on your own, Bulma on the other hand is a little fragile."

The prince could not hide the contempt on his face. The younger Saiyan backed up.

"Woah, calm down. I didn't mean to say anything to make you angry."

Vegeta was seething.

"Your stupidity is absolutely amazing! Do you ever think before opening up that trap of yours?"

"Well—"

"Shut-up. Just shut-up." The shorter warrior turned away from the other man trying to get a handle on his emotion. Emotion; just one. He no longer felt pain or sorrow, just anger.

Goku, not one to listen to directions, spoke nonetheless;

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned Bulma. But I will say that she was relieved that you were okay."

The prince scoffed.

"Well that lifts the load from my shoulders."

"You know she still cares about you. Her feelings may have changed for you, but she still cares what happens. She thinks you hate her," Goku eyed the shorter Saiyan intently. "Do you?"

Vegeta looked up at the sky, silently willing his annoying visitor to go away...It wasn't working.

"Well do you?"

He sighed deeply, without turning he finally spoke; figuring the only way to get rid the empty-headed moron was to answer him.

"I hate what she did, Kakarott." He looked over his shoulder. "But no," he sighed, "I don't hate her. As much as I want to I can't." His brows drew together, "I'm extremely angry with her, though. And because of what she did she destroyed everything between us. It's over, for good." He turned his attention back to the sky, "She needs to know that in case i _Billy/i _doesn't pan out for her. Our bond is severed and can never be re-formed. I hope she understands that. She'd better be happy with the choice she's made," he said coldly, "because now it's too late if she ever gets the notion in her head to feel otherwise."

He didn't mention that, in a way, it was a relief that it was over. It was an ending to a slowly dying entity that led to a rebirth. Inwardly, he was glad it happened, for it released him. It had opened his eyes, mind, and his senses. Still it was a slap in the face that could have been approached completely differently, but he wasn't about to share any of this with the low-level behind him.

Goku nodded.

"I understand how you feel."

Vegeta greatly doubted this, but kept his mouth shut.

"I'm not going to lie to you Vegeta, I thought you'd try to go after Billy. I know you don't want to hear this right now, but he's a really great guy and Bulma's happy. I'm not trying to say she wasn't happy with you, but she's not like Chi-Chi. She's not strong like that. She did love you, I know it," he nodded his head earnestly. "But she couldn't handle having a warrior as a husband." He shrugged, "You know, someone who may die at any giving moment. It's like being married to a cop, I guess, you never know when they might catch a stray bullet and die in the line of duty. Bulma needed something more stable, someone who wouldn't put his life on the line or leave months at a time to fight some horrible enemy light years away."

Vegeta couldn't help but snicker at the analogy. However, he had to admit it was a decent one, given the situation. This was one of those times he thought Kakarott actually had a functioning brain.

"Plus he has a really nice car."

Then again, maybe not.

He rolled his eyes.

"Listen Kakarott, is he really as nice to her as you say he is?"

"Yeah," he nodded looking thoughtful. "A tad of a goof, but he falls over his feet for her."

"And she's happy, truly happy?"

"Yep."

Vegeta shrugged.

"Then I have no reason to go after this Billy." He said the name for the first time without any emotion. "Just tell her to keep in mind where we stand. She has made her decision, now she must stand by it."

Goku nodded.

"I will." He walked over to stand by Vegeta. The prince seemed agitated by this movement but that didn't deter the Earthly Saiyan. "She'll be happy to hear that you aren't out for blood. Trunks will be glad to hear that you're okay too."

Vegeta quickly looked over at the man standing next to him, he had wanted to ask about his son, but not directly. He had been wondering about the boy for the past two weeks, but needed to sort through his own wrecked mind first. So he jumped at this opportunity.

"How is he?"

Goku's grin seemed to waver.

"He doesn't like this, Vegeta, not one bit. Goten said something about him wanting things to be the way they were." The younger Saiyan's voice went from flighty to serious, "He's really worried about you. He wanted to see you, but Bulma wouldn't let him come to the Lookout, she thought you would turn him away and she didn't want him to feel rejected."

Vegeta couldn't help but shake his head, his mouth turning down angrily.

"Never." His eyes narrowed, "I would never turn away my own son."

Goku looked more than shocked at this statement.

Vegeta sneered, insulted.

"How cold do you think me, Kakarott?"

"No, it's just that I didn't think you cared all that much, you never act like it."

Vegeta's eyes lit dangerously. A new voice drifted through the air, instantly setting his nerves at ease.

"You're awfully rude tonight, Goku."

The taller Saiyan spun around.

"Who's there?"

Vegeta chuckled darkly.

"It's Piccolo, you idiot. He's been standing there the last 15 minutes."

Goku's keen eyes finally focused on the figure in the shadows, it was indeed the Namek, but his ki was masked. He looked at Vegeta amazedly.

"Wow, how did you know he was there? His ki was completely pushed down and he didn't make a sound."

A small smile tugged at the prince's lips.

"I have my ways."

Piccolo walked forward, wearing his own dark smile.

"Well, seems like you girls are having a nice chat. I'll leave you in peace." He looked at Vegeta.

"I'm returning to the Lookout, Dende has contacted me and said my presence is needed. I would have said something sooner, but I didn't want to interrupt such a lovely conversation."

Vegeta smirked despite himself and nodded. Piccolo gave a curt nod in Goku's direction and took off in the air; the prince wouldn't be far behind him.

"What was his problem?" Goku asked looked blankly in the direction Piccolo had flown off in.

Vegeta shrugged.

"Stupid people tend to piss him off, I wouldn't worry about it."

Goku looked perplexed, but he shook the feeling and looked back at the Saiyan Prince standing next to him.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked, "Stay up at the Lookout?"

"I don't see why that is a concern of yours," he sneered, "but yes, for the time being." He glanced at Kakarott, his face slipping into his familiar scowl.

"Well now that you've managed to put me back into a foul mood, I think I'll be leaving. See to it that you relay to Bulma what I have said. I'd do it myself but I'm too pissed at her to see straight."

Goku nodded, Vegeta grunted and without warning blasted off into the sky. He flew at break neck speed to catch up to the Namek. Piccolo sensing him, slowed down. When the prince caught up to him, a small grin crossed the green man's face.

"I'm surprised you didn't kill him."

Vegeta smirked.

"I was tempted to. But I wanted some information."

"Trunks?"

Vegeta nodded, impressed that Piccolo had been able to pick up that much conversation. He then wondered if it was conversation he had picked up on or something else.

"I think I'll pay him a visit tomorrow," he stated, "he deserves to know what's really going on."

Kami's Lookout became visible in the distance. They quickly changed their flying pattern and sharply turned upwards, flying in a vertical line to reach the top. When they landed, Dende was there to greet them. He needed Piccolo to oversee a certain part of the western hemisphere; apparently there was some sort of problem Vegeta didn't pretend to understand.

The still new guardian of Earth needed Piccolo's, or more precisely, Kami's guidance in this matter. He shrugged and walked towards inner walls searching for something to eat. Like magic Mr. Popo appeared and assured him food was on its way. He stretched his limbs, admitting to himself that he liked being waited on hand and foot. It was the first time since he was five years old that he was actually treated like royalty. Not that it really mattered. He had learned quickly how to fend for himself; you learn such things living under Frieza's wing. But it was nice to be served for once.

The food was brought, and Vegeta quickly began to devour the sea of dishes in front of him. Piccolo finally entered the room, looking a bit wan.

"Problems?" The prince asked between mouthfuls.

Piccolo plopped down in a chair.

"Dende's a good kid, but he has a lot to learn. You don't try fixing something that's not broken."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow.

"He thought the shield around the western hemisphere looked a little thin so he tried to strengthen it and ended up tearing a giant hole in it instead."

The Saiyan chuckled.

"He'll learn."

Piccolo looked thoughtful, he nibbled here and there off one of the many trays. Although he didn't need to eat, he could. Not something he did too often, but when there was something brewing in his mind he had been known to pick up a fork.

Vegeta let the Namek contemplate in silence while he concerned himself with filling his stomach.

Piccolo finally spoke.

"So what are you going to do?"

Vegeta looked up at him and finished chewing his food before leaning back in his chair. He too, now bore a thoughtful expression.

"I don't have the slightest. I thought about leaving the planet, I know several nice spots where I could settle nicely, even rule if I wanted. Unfortunately, I'd probably be hunted down. I'm not that well received in many places thanks to my career with Frieza and the Planet Trade. Not that being hunted down would be so bad," he mused, "it certainly would keep me busy, plus there would be plenty of people to fight."

Piccolo chuckled; Saiyans' were so single-minded when it came to battle. But he had to admire their dedication.

"However," Vegeta continued, "I'm not in a hurry to repeat my last stunt with Buu if anything should get out of hand. Not to mention I have a son as well as other ties here." He shot a quick glance in the Namek's direction. A warm feeling spiked through the taller man's body and he had to fight to suppress a smile. He spoke;

"You could take Trunks with you."

Vegeta nodded.

"I've thought of that. But it wouldn't be fair to him, though. To uproot him like that— take him from his friends," he shook his head, "no, I couldn't. This is the only place he's known as home. And as much as I'd like to spite her, he needs his mother."

Piccolo raised a brow and cocked his head,

"So are you going to take him every other weekend, or some shit like that?" He didn't care for human customs; he thought them ridiculous and impractical. It showed in his tone.

"Better yet here's another question," Piccolo offered thinking that perhaps there was another way Vegeta could have his revenge. " Aren't you entitled to half of everything she owns? She is your wife, you should be a very rich man."

Vegeta shook his head.

"No, she was my mate, not my wife," he stated. "We never got married, it was one of those, 'lets not do it and say we did,' type of things. I thought it was a ridiculous ceremony and she never wanted to legally snare up the corporation if anything did happen. Funny," he scoffed, pausing.

"What?"

Vegeta looked up at him, "At the time she was talking about the unlikely event if she died the corporation would go directly to her descendent. If she were married it would have gone to me, and I didn't want anything to do with it." He tipped his chair on its legs. "Anyway, she called me her 'husband' and I occasionally would call her my 'wife' so she could save face in front of her colleagues. So it all worked out, I didn't have to do a stupid Earth ritual and she could hand Capsule Corp. directly to Trunks in the event of her death without lawyers breathing down my neck. Seems as if I would have gone through with it, I could take her to court and sue her for everything she has. And as appealing as that sounds, I have no use for such things." He tipped his chair forward again, "Let her keep her damn corporation and all of her filthy money. But I'll be damned if I let that bitch take my son from me."

Piccolo grinned; he liked what he heard. Apparently Vegeta wasn't interested in monetary supplements, he just wanted what was rightfully his. It was then that he began to feel drowsy; it had been a damn long day. He got up, Vegeta setting his black eyes on him when he did so.

"I'm turning in. Don't destroy anything."

"Ruin my fun."

Piccolo chuckled and began to walk past the Saiyan. He got a whim. He let his right hand brush the Saiyan's cheek and quickly combed it through his black flame of hair on his way to the door. Vegeta shut his eyes, enjoying the sensation, when he opened them the Namek was gone.

"Sneaky bastard," he muttered under his breath.

He too stood up and went to his own bed after playing with the thought of following the Namek. Better not to rush things, not quite yet anyway.


	13. Chapter 13 The Ties that Bind

Chapter Thirteen: The Ties that Bind

"Mom, do you think I can see dad today?"

The muscle in Bulma's jaw jumped. She turned to look into the deep blue orbs of her son. She opened her mouth to speak but a voice cut her off.

"Trunks," it said, "I don't think your dad wants to see you."

The statement hung in the air like a bad odor. Finally, "Think about it, my boy," the voice soothed, "It's been two weeks. If he really wanted to see you, he would have shown up by now, wouldn't he?" A reassuring smile was flashed his way that made the child's stomach turn. "I know it's hard for you to understand, but he abandoned you. It's just best if you forget about him."

Bulma shot Billy a nasty look.

"Bill, I know you don't think highly of Vegeta, but you shouldn't judge him like that. He does care for his son, he just isn't public about it."

Billy rolled his brown eyes.

"Well if he cares so much," he asked critically, "then where is he?"

"I..I don't know." She shook her head a bit sadly, "this was all such a shock, I mean—

"Don't make excuses for him," he cut in. "He's just another dead beat dad." The lanky man shook his head in disgust. "People like him make me sick. Never there for their family, always locking themselves away with their addictions, ignoring what's going on in their own household. It's horrible."

"Addictions?"

"Yes, Bulma, addictions. For some it's drugs, other's it's alcohol, for him it was training. Isn't that why we're here right now?" he asked tactlessly. "Because of him locking you and Trunks out, training hours on end, and not spending anytime with his family?"

By this time Trunks had had enough. None of this was true and he knew it.

"Shut up! Both of you! Just shut-up!"

Both Bulma and Billy turned around, the lanky man's hand still on the wheel. Brown and blue eyes settled on the 9 year old sitting in the back seat. Trunks face was set in anger, looking so much like his father that Bulma had to suppress a shiver.

"You know that's not true, Mom!" he cried outraged, "Why do you let him talk like that?"

A stab of guilt instantly ran through the young boy when he looked into his mother's distressed eyes.

"I'm sorry, mom," he sighed.

Bulma gave him a weak smile.

"It's okay Trunks," she said softly, "we shouldn't have talked like that in front of you. I'm sorry too."

Billy nodded, letting his eyes go back to the road. The school was now visible and he pulled the air car up to the curb.

"Me too, champ," he said twisting back in his seat. "I shouldn't talk about your father like that." He gave him a lop-sided grin. "How about I take you to the circus to make up for it, okay?"

The lavender haired boy shrugged, he was getting tired of being dragged to so called 'fun' places.

"Yeah sure. Can Goten come?" Maybe if his best friend came along they could ditch this looser and have a decent time on their own.

"You bet he can!" he laughed. The child's lip turned in distaste. That had to be the stupidest laugh he had ever heard. It was one of those braying wheezes that caused everyone else in the vicinity to snicker. But it was only humorous the first few days, now, it set his teeth on edge.

The lanky man reached back and ruffled the demi-Saiyan's lavender hair. Trunks cringed, fighting the urge to recoil under the touch. Quickly, he leaned forward and kissed his mom on the cheek and hopped out of the air car.

He made his way towards the school, relieved to be away from the ongoing tension that was building in the car.

A cheerful voice was there to greet him.

"Oi, Trunks! Wait for me!"

Goten ran up along side his friend. With his father's goofy grin plastered on his face, he gave Trunks a good natured shove.

"How ya doing?"

Trunks smiled and shoved him back. Goten was always good for cheering people up.

"Fine, I guess."

Goten knew better, but didn't say anything. He wasn't about to upset his best friend, he had gone through too much already.

Before more words could be exchanged Mr. Neller and Ms. Perry caught sight of the boys and ushered them inside, scolding them each step of the way for being late.

The morning went by agonizingly slow. Trunks was counting down the minutes until recess, not being able to tear his gaze away from the large clock nailed above the chalkboard. Only three more minutes, why did it take so long? He held his breath, as if it would speed the time up. It didn't help. Neither did fidgeting in his seat.

"Trunks!"

The boy jerked his head up.

"Yes, Ms. Perry?"

"Sit still. You're distracting the rest of the class."

"Yes, Ms. Perry," he sighed despondently.

Then, by some miracle, the bell suddenly rang. As always, he was the first out the door, followed closely by Goten.

"I never thought it would ring," proclaimed his younger companion, "I think they're setting the clocks back just to be mean."

"You're paranoid, Goten."

"No, really I swear yesterday it rang 2 minutes earlier, and even then, it was still late."

"Whatever, I'm just glad to be outside."

Trunks scanned the playground looking for something to do. It was here that he felt something off. His ears tingled, like someone was whispering to him.

"Hey, Goten, did you hear that?"

Goten looked around, "Hear what?"

"Like someone's talking real soft." He was quiet and he heard it again. "There, just now!" His eyes grew wide, "You didn't hear that?"

"Um, Trunks are you feeling okay?"

Trunks shot his younger companion a dark look.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

Goten shrugged. "I just don't hear anything."

A young girl with dark auburn pig-tails abruptly ran up to the two of them. She smoothed out her pretty pink shirt, shuffling her shoes in the grass, "Goten, um, could you come with me over to the soccer field? We got our ball stuck in a tree and we can't get it down." She batted her green eyes. "Please?"

Goten flashed the classic Son smile, "Sure, I'll be there in a sec."

Trunks, on the other hand, had a familiar scowl etched on his face.

Goten looked over at him. "You going to come?"

"No way." He stated, as if Goten had asked him to eat dirt, "Girls are stupid."

"Ah, they're not so bad, well I'll see you in a bit." And with that, Goten ran off.

Trunks grumbled to himself and went to sit on a rickety bench to wait for his friend's return. The chain link fence that marked the edge of the school's property was at his back. He leaned back upon it and closed his eyes.

"Trunks."

There it was again, but this time it was louder, like it was closer. Right behind him in fact.

The boy slowly turned around. Over the fence leaning up against the tree... He nearly broke into tears.

"Dad?"

A nod.

In an instant, Trunks leapt over the fence and half flew, half ran, over to the tree on the hill. He squarely attached himself to his father's leg.

"DadImissedyousomuchhashappenedtheirsomeweirdguylivingathomeandmom'sallfunnyand—

"Whoa Trunks, slow down."

He pulled his son away from him and placed his hands on his shoulder's, looking down at him. The child had tears in his eyes, but was trying his best to keep himself in check.

"Sorry." A sniffle. "I said, I missed you. There's some weird guy living at home. Mom acts funny towards him, she said I should be respectful to him and mind what he says. She said he'll be living here from now on. Everything's really screwed up."

"I know it is."

"Dad, I'm glad you're back. When are you coming home?"

Vegeta sighed, "Come with me, Trunks. We have a lot to talk about."

Trunks grinned; one, he was getting out of school and more importantly he was with his father. He couldn't have been happier. They rose in the air and started heading towards the heart of the city.

"Dad," the demi-Saiyan shouted in the direction of his father, "I thought we weren't suppose to fly with people around."

Vegeta bit back a comment, that had been Bulma's rule.

"Just don't make yourself obvious, we'll be landing in a second anyhow." Which they did behind a closed-down building.

They walked around the city streets for a while in silence. Trunks repeatedly looking at his father, wondering where they we're going. He didn't ask though. Vegeta's expression was one of deep thought, not to be interrupted.

The boy was getting more confused by the second. He didn't know what was wrong and to top it off he was starving. It was well past lunch time.

Vegeta stopped and suddenly turned down an alleyway, Trunks at his tail. When they re-appeared on the other side, they were on the city's main drag. The prince walked towards a tall building. Trunks grinned ear to ear. He knew this place well.

Upon entering one got the feeling of entering a palace. The place was massive, and furnished with every imaginable luxury. A extravagant fountain with waterfalls and jumping sprays sat in the center beneath a gigantic chandelier. Waiters in their red and black uniforms seemed to dance around it, their hands scrawling down their customer's exorbitant selections as they moved from table to table.

A glass elevator was positioned behind the falls, Trunks blue eyes settled on it.

"Can we eat up there?"

Vegeta nodded.

"Yes, but don't drop anything on the people below us like you did the last time we ate up there, got it?"

Trunks frowned, his father had ruined his plans.

"But you thought it was funny."

"Yes, but the owner didn't. We nearly got kicked out."

"Awww" he then smirked, a carbon copy of his father. " We could blast them if they tried."

Vegeta put a hand to his chin, mockingly considering it.

"Hmm...I don't know. If we did, the police would show up and we would have to blast them too. Then there's the fire department and the reporters to consider, not to mention all the witnesses." He shook his head, "Nope, by the time we would be done, lunch would be over and the day would be shot."

Trunks laughed. He had missed joking with his father.

The two Saiyans entered the elevator. Upon reaching the upper level an attendant seated them at a table overlooking the leaping sprays of the fountain. The owner made it a point to come by and greet them. She knew them well, as she did all high paying customers, and after giving them a complementary round of drinks she went back to the kitchen to oversee the new cook.

Trunks was eyeing the passing waiters, already devising plans of a spit ball assault.

Vegeta waited until the owner had left then looked at his young son. He closed his eyes momentarily; this wasn't going to be easy.

A waiter came and took their rather lengthy order and began to walk away to the back. Trunks was wearing a mischievous smile, sizing him up, and looking for a good place to aim.

It was time;

"How much has your mother told you?"

The boy gave a startled shrug, a bit disappointed that he lost his opportunity to send a spit wad flying at the waiter's hair. He focused on his father.

"She said that Billy was going to be living with us and that I should be nice to him." His blue eyes settled on his father. Vegeta had trouble looking into them as they were mirrors of his mother's eyes, but he managed.

"She said there was something bothering you and you had to go to Kami's Lookout to get it sorted out." His brows drew down, "Billy said you abandoned us or else you would have come by."

A look of agitation crossed the prince's features. _Thanks, Bulma, let me do all the explaining, and fuck you, Billy,_ he thought, cursing her for her vagueness with the boy and Billy for his misleading lies.

"Trunks," he paused trying to form the right words. This was beyond difficult, but it had to be said, "Trunks, this is hard for me to say, but you need to hear the truth." Another pause. "I'm sure you're sick of being jerked around."

A simple nod.

"I didn't abandon you," he stated firmly. "I didn't come by because I wasn't welcome. Your mother and I..." Blue eyes penetrated his black ones, making it all the more harder, "aren't going to be living together anymore." There he said it.

Trunks brows knitted together in confusion; he had been under the impression that this was all temporary. This had to be some sort of fluke, some mistake, it had to get better, it just had to.

"What? Can't you say you're sorry?" His voice rose, quivering "Can't you do anything?"

Vegeta slowly shook his head.

"I wish it were that simple."

All thoughts of spit wads vanished from the boy's head.

"So are you getting a divorce or something?"

Vegeta wasn't going to explain the fact that Bulma and he weren't married in the first place, but he supposed the word 'divorce' would aptly sum up the situation.

"Yes, Trunks. I guess that's the best way to put it."

Tears brimmed in the young boy's eyes.

"But why? Was it something I did?"

A look of concern fell over the Saiyan's face.

"No," he said sincerely, "you didn't do anything wrong. I don't know what happened, honestly. But it has nothing to do with you. So no blaming yourself, okay?"

After a few tears, the demi-Saiyan gave a shaky nod.

Vegeta handed him a napkin, Trunks took it with his small hand. He looked away, ashamed he was crying in front of his father.

"It's all right, Trunks. It's okay to cry when you have a good reason."

Trunks looked up at him and then back to the ground.

Vegeta, already feeling distraught, knew he needed to give a further explanation.

"You know you are going to be having a new baby brother or sister." He stated this, figuring Trunks knew.

The child looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Really?" Maybe there was hope yet.

Vegeta bit his tongue. Bulma hadn't even told him that. He repressed a thousand insults aimed at the blue-haired woman and shook his head. He hated to do this, but someone had to tell him. Looks like it would be him.

"Yes, your mom's pregnant. It will be your sibling through her, but," by the Gods this sucked, "not through me."

Trunks couldn't comprehend what he meant by that. Just then the food arrived, yet neither touched their plates.

"I don't understand, dad."

He gave his son a long look. Finally he had to stare behind him to say it, it was simply too hard to meet his eyes.

"Billy is the father of this child, not me."

Trunk's face shattered, realization hitting him like a sledge hammer. His face broke and a high pitched keening sound erupted from his throat. Billy was living with them because he was going to be his new father. He started to sob, rather loudly as that reality began to sink in.

A pained look crossed Vegeta's face. He hated this. Not sparing a second thought, he moved over to his son's side and let the boy cry on his chest, trying to comfort him the best he could. Perhaps it had been cruel to tell Trunks straight out as he had done, but Vegeta was a firm believer in telling the truth to those who mattered to you. And a lie was a lie regardless if it you used it to spare a person's feelings or not. He didn't always used to be this way, and now was one of those times he wished he wasn't.

Trunks finally calmed enough to ask, "So mom cheated on you? That's why you're leaving is because she had an affair?"

Some left over pain seeped back into the prince's system; so he wasn't as over as much this as he thought he was.

He nodded numbly, not willing to elaborate further with his son.

"But why would she do something like this?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "I don't think she was exactly happy with me. I wasn't the best husband in the world to her." Damn, but he hated talking to Trunks about this. So much for being vague.

They boy's red-rimmed eyes became angry.

"Yes you were! You did everything for us! She's just being a jerk!"

"Trunks!" Vegeta's voice becoming stern although he fully agreed with him "Don't talk about your mother like that. She was just doing what she thought was best for her. True she could have gone about it differently, but to be honest it wouldn't have mattered if she would have had the affair or not." He wondered if this statement was true or not, "Your mom and I just aren't happy together anymore. "

"What about me?" he demanded, "Did either one of you stop and think about me? I don't want that looser as my dad! I want you!" He clutched desperately on to Vegeta's shirt.

Now they were beginning to attract stares. The Saiyan's burning black eyes shot them a look that promised a slow death if they didn't quickly attend to their own business. All promptly turned in their seats and focused on their plates.

After a moment he gently rocked his son.

"Trunks, I'll always be your father. No matter what happens, never forget that. No one's asking you to accept i _Billy/i _" the hatred restored in that name. "as your father."

Trunks pushed away.

"That's not true. He's already trying to take your place. He takes me to all of these stupid places and tries to buy me everything under the sun to try and win me over."

Vegeta looked him in the eye.

"Is it working?"

The boy held his head up defiantly.

"NO. I'll never like him! And nothing he does will ever make me call him 'dad'."

The prince had to smile at his offspring's proud behavior, so much like his own.

"Well then, you have nothing to worry about. The only one who can make him take my place as your father is you."

"But I'll never see you…" he trailed off.

A gentle chuckle.

"Trunks, you can see me anytime you want. You know where the Lookout is."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Trunks tears ceased.

"But what if mom doesn't let me?" he asked, frowning.

"Well we're going to have to talk to her about that." He said this statement with a bit of venom in his voice, but tried to mask it. He didn't want to upset his son further.

More question's burned through the boy's skull, but his father placed a hand on his head.

"Dry your tears. I know this is bullshit," Trunks mouth gapped, although he had heard his father curse...frequently, he had never done so while speaking to him. He found it a bit humorous, and a tiny grinned tugged on his lips. Vegeta matched it with his own, "But over time it will get better."

The boy gave a nod, it was then he started eyeing the now cooling food before them.

"Dad if we're done talking now; I'm hungry, can we eat?"

"Spoken like a true Saiyan," he smirked. "Go ahead."

They finished their meal. Trunks had cheered up now that he had food in his stomach not to mention that he had gotten a few good spit balls in. Of course he only did so when his father would 'conveniently' look away. He thought he was doing a good job too, until Vegeta pointed behind him.

Trunks looked over his shoulder. The mother of all targets was standing 3 yards behind him. The overweight cook— the word 'overweight' being a kind statement—had come out into the dinning floor and had dropped a spoon and was in the process of bending over to pick it up. His crimson clad butt was like a bright red beacon to the nine year old. He looked over at his dad in astonishment. Vegeta simply grinned and on cue looked away to the fountains below him.

Trunks leapt at the chance. An indignant "Hey!" was Vegeta's signal it was time to look back at the table. Trunks was wearing the biggest shit-eating smile he had ever seen. He chuckled at him. The waiter, who was sporting many a spit wad in his hair, unnoticed of course, handed him the bill. Without looking at it, Vegeta began to pull out his wallet, a slender hand on his shoulder stopped him. It was the owner.

"Please, Mr. Vegeta don't worry about it." She looked both ways, and when she was sure the coast was clear she bent down to whisper in his ear. "I couldn't help but hear part of your conversation earlier. So I took the liberty and charged your meal to Mr. Quinn's personal account."

"Mr. Quinn?" a questioning glance.

"Ah, Billy Quinn" she winked at him mischievously.

Vegeta gave a snide snicker.

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

The owner gave a pleasant smile.

"Think nothing of it Mr. Vegeta. I know who's business I value more. And if you should ever need anything," she handed him a business card, "don't hesitate to ask." With that she flashed him another smile, turned and left. He flipped the card over, written in an elegant scrawl;

'I'm so sorry for this misfortune. If you ever need to talk, please give me a call,' a number 'or come by,' an address, 'I'm free after 6, or anytime. Anything for you. Forever there, Sandra'

There was a smiley face drawn under her name. A look of horror crossed the elite's face.

"What is it dad?"

Not only was he just hit on, but he was hit on in front of his son.

"Let's just say it will be a while before we eat here again."

"Why?"

Vegeta shook his head and looked in the direction of the owner, she looked back and waved, winked, and gave him a sly smile. Vegeta quickly looked away and tugged at his son's arm.

"Oh by the demons...Let's go."

"What? Why?"

"I'll explain it to you when you're older."

He quickly threw down a tip, wrapped in it was the business card. Later on that evening Sandra did get a call...from the love struck waiter who had found the card thinking it was for him. Unfortunately, he was fired by the humiliated woman.

Vegeta flew in the direction of Capsule Corp. a mixture of emotions churning through his head. He had flown this way countless times, but now he couldn't just stroll into the massive building as he had done before. He had accepted that the relationship between Bulma and himself was over, it was just breaking the familiar habits that was so hard.

They landed outside the entrance. Trunks wished his father farewell and promised he'd be up to see him soon. Vegeta nodded in his direction advising him to stay out of mischief. Trunks grinned and ran up to the door. Before he could touch it, however, it flew open.

"Trunks! I was worried sick about you! Where were you? The school called and said you were missing. Why did you do such a thing?" Trunks backed away from his flailing mother.

"Oh mom, calm down I was just with dad." He jerked a finger behind him. "See, he's right over there."

Bulma immediately stopped her frantic behavior and looked up. Vegeta stood like a statue, his arms crossed and his face expressionless. They looked at each other, neither speaking a word.

Finally a squeaky pitched voice broke the air.

"Bulma, honey? Is that Trunks? Is he okay?"

Billy came outside, the first thing he saw was Trunks.

"Hey there you are kido, we were really—

His gaze caught on the menacing looking Saiyan standing in the front yard. Brown and black eyes met. Vegeta didn't move or speak. His eyes briefly darted down him was the only acknowledgement he graced the other man. Finally, Billy spoke.

"You must be Vegeta."

The Saiyan Prince said nothing.

"Er, the quiet type huh? Listen, I know you probably don't think much of –

"I don't think anything of you," he intercepted. "My son, on the other hand," his eyes snapped on Bulma, "is of my blood. And considering this fact," he said, words spilling like fire, "at anytime he pleases he can leave these premises and come to my own, is this understood?"

Bulma's eyes narrowed, how dare he command her.

"Now listen, Vegeta. Trunks just can't up and leave anytime he wants to."

"No, you listen, Bulma. Trunks can damn well see me anytime he wants. If you dare try to prevent him like you have been doing—

Billy stepped protectively in front of the blue-haired woman.

"I won't let you hurt her."

Vegeta threw back his head and laughed.

"Is that so?" His lips twisted in a cruel smile, "I could kill you before you draw your next breath."

"Perhaps, but I'll die before you hurt her. I understand you wanting to see your son. We won't keep him from you. But he can't leave the middle of school. Please understand this."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, indeed Billy was as ugly and ridiculous as Piccolo had said, but apparently he had a decent heart, at least from this display.

Vegeta sneered, "I'm not going to hurt her, you fool." He glared in Bulma's direction, "Fine," he hissed, "We'll work out the details later." She nodded in reply.

He inclined his head towards Trunks and blasted off into the sky without another word. All eyes following his vapor trail until it dissipated in the evening air.


	14. Chapter 14 Interlude

Chapter Fourteen: Interlude

They entered a large open room, a favored one of the prince's where he usually took his meals. Vegeta was quiet, saying nothing as he sat himself down at the table. Not particularly unusual for him, but this silence was uneasy.

Piccolo leaned against the wall; the Saiyan Prince would speak when he was ready. Until that time he would meditate. He shut his eyes and lowered his head, anchoring himself. It was then that something peculiar happened;

_'I can't believe it! With him! Gods what an ugly bastard! She left me for that! A fucking toothpick with a wide ass chin and big teeth? It looks like he's trying to eat himself, for Kami's sake. And that snout of his; repulsive! He must be charismatic or something...He seemed to have cared for her, though. He stood up to me so that should say something. Trunks hates him but that's understandable, I wouldn't like him either. I don't like him; bastard! Yet, if it wasn't for him, I'd still be with her...I wouldn't be here...with him... Odd, perhaps he's not such a bastard, maybe I need to give him a medal instead.. 'Thank you so much for taking that naggy bitch off of my hands, what a great guy'...no...I'm being an ass...she wasn't bad, she just wasn't right...not for me... _

Piccolo could hear all of it. It wasn't like Nail or Kami, although at first he thought it was. But these were not voices in his mind. This spoke through his entire being. Words couldn't describe it, the voice was warm, like there was a hot or coldness associated with it. It was more tangible than either Nail or Kami, yet soft, like he had to strain to hear it. He wished Vegeta would think louder.

_Shouldn't I feel bad? Shouldn't I be more distraught over this? It's only been two weeks or so, this should be taking me months if not years to get over. Yet, I feel fine, a bit somber over the matter, but nothing more...Fucking furious, that's for sure. She didn't have to betray me like a fucking whore! She should have just talked to me. I wasn't exactly happy either, I'm sure we could have reached an understanding.…but what **would **I have done? Would I have tried to work things out? If not for our sakes, then Trunks? But we were bonded this shouldn't have happened—Fuck! How naïve am I?_

Vegeta shifted in his seat, a slight frown tugging at the corners of his mouth the only indication of the turmoil brooding within.

_'How is it that you can be bonded to someone and still be absolutely miserable in their presence? I was suffocating! And she was too…we just didn't work well together anymore. There's too big a gap between us. We didn't share anything, and for all of the affection between us, we never understood one another. She was too erratic. At first, I considered this a challenge, but over the years it had grown tiresome. I can't keep up with her ever-changing moods. A failing on my part; she's always been this way. But, on hers…she never did accept me fully. She loved me once, I don't doubt that, but she never accepted what I was…am. My past. There are things I do regret, many, but it wasn't all bad. I could have told her tales that would spin her imagination. I have seen so many things, been to so many places… But she wouldn't listen! She'd get that disgusted look in her eyes…the one that made me want to crawl into a hole. And she wonders why I never talked to her about my feelings. Idiot. She doesn't understand what's it's like. I was an elite soldier in the most powerful enterprise the universe had ever seen. I was godlike; both feared and revered. But I was also a servant and ridiculed for my heritage. It messes with you being this way. She never knew. She never knew how hard it was for me to adapt. She just thought I was being cold and arrogant… This place has no fucking hierarchy! No set lines or boundaries of any sort. For fucks sake, I didn't know where I fit! Now, a dozen years later, I can learned appreciate it. It is liberating in a way, having no caste system. But at the time? No, my dearest, I didn't have an abrupt change of heart and suddenly go from 'evil' to 'good'. But that's the way you saw things…I was her success story. She fucking romanticized me; I was her 'dark angel' as she liked to call me. If she only knew…I tried to show her in other ways. What is it with these humans and their fucking conversations? They always have to fucking talk. Actions speak louder than words, why could she never see this?_

The prince shut his eyes and slowed his breathing.

_It's finally over. Thank the Gods._

Piccolo's brow raised a fraction. It was like having an open book in his palms. He knew he shouldn't be listening to this. This was beyond prying, but he couldn't stop himself. Vegeta was a very guarded individual, and this glimpse beneath the surface was enthralling. True, he knew some of it already. On a few rare occasions the prince had sought him out for guidance, and would sometimes make references to his past. He found it fascinating, every aspect of it. Bulma was a fool. How could she not appreciate this man in his entirety? Well, it was her loss, and he'd reap the benefits from it…when and if Vegeta was up for it.

There was a connection between them now, but the ball was in the Saiyan's court. He had spilt his guts last night, and it was up to the prince to decide what to do with the information he'd been given. As if on cue, he hear his name.

He opened his eyes, but the prince wasn't looking at him. He was sitting at the table, arms crossed and eyes closed, still in deep thought. It wasn't spoken aloud; he concentrated again on the man seated a few yards away from him.

_I wasn't expecting this…a new bond? I didn't think it possible. It's too soon, isn't it? It would be inappropriate for me to just jump into another relationship…But last night…and the night before that…Fuck protocol! This could get interesting, Piccolo's certainly more up my alley; I can't get enough. How refreshing! No mulling over feelings or awkward meetings, just taking action, that's so like him. Damn it! Why didn't I notice him first? Well, he's here now. That bitch may have hurt me, but the pain was worth it…I wish he'd speed things up though, he only seems to act on his impulses when he thinks I won't fight back. I won't bite…hard. Funny, I wasn't nearly as aggressive with Bulma. It took nearly a year to develop a relationship with her and that had been one hell of a bumpy ride. But this? Bring it on! Besides, my father actually wouldn't roll in his grave over this match. Piccolo would be considered an elite in Saiyan society...wasn't his father of royal bearing? Didn't they refer to him as 'King' Piccolo? So, logically, that would make his son a prince. This works out all too nicely...Hmm, I guess I better say something before he gets bored and walks off...no...I don't think he would... I think he'd stand there all night if need be. So different from Bulma...not that the two are comparable by any means...damn I'm hungry…what time is it? I wonder what that Popo guy is going to bring for dinner...Prince Piccolo; wonder why he doesn't claim his birthright? He could be a god if he wanted, he could do that instead of Dende. Fighting is in his blood though, have to admire that...Eh, wish I could do that mind trick like he does, get people to know what he wants when he wants. I'm thinking porter house steak...Five of them...Trunks seemed to be okay, not exactly thrilled, but okay. He'll be fine, he'll just need some time. If push comes to shove, I can always bring him here, but it would be best if he stayed with his mother. He's never been away from his home; life would be much easier for him if he stayed put...okay guess I should talk, but first I want food—_

"It's on it's way."

The prince looked startled.

"What's on its way?"

"Your food. Five porter house steaks, right?"

Vegeta abruptly got to his feet.

"How did you know that?"

"I heard you."

The prince's eyes narrowed to slits.

"What are you talking about, Namek?" he snapped, his body rigid. "I didn't think you could read minds."

Piccolo raised a brow, "You're suppose to be the guru on bonds. And oh, by the way," he added, rather unwisely, "that would be Prince Piccolo to you."

A slight shade of pink tinged the elite's cheeks. He shot the warrior across from him a heated look and in the process masked his feelings and thoughts.

Piccolo sighed, he shouldn't have done that. He knew how angry he got when Nail or Kami would read his mind.

"Sorry, Vegeta. That was invasive. I wasn't trying to hear you, well at least not at first. It just happened," he explained. "I didn't even know I could do it until just now. But don't worry, I think I have it under control. It won't happen again."

Vegeta's look didn't waver.

"You heard all of it?"

Piccolo hesitated, not wanting to anger the shorter man further. But finally he settled with a small inclination of his head.

The tinge returned, spreading from the bridge of the Saiyan's nose. He opened his mouth to say something, but then snapped it shut. What in the hell was he supposed to say? The older man chewed over the matter for a moment. He was embarrassed, but he was surprised to find that he wasn't angry. He was, however, dying to know what the Namek thought of the whole situation. They had not spoken since last night, so everything was still up in the air.

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

A bewildered look crossed the tall man's face.

"Well what?"

"Well," Vegeta repeated, "you heard," he waived his hand in the air with annoyance, "everything, and i b _**I /i /b **_don't have the benefit of reading minds, so what do you think?"

"About what?"

Vegeta's jaw tightened. Was Piccolo being this thick on purpose? He didn't want to get into an uncomfortable tête-à-tête and he highly doubted his companion did either.

"Us," he replied shortly, "the other night."

Piccolo looked at him levelly, though his heart had jumped in his throat.

"I'm relieved to know that I wasn't taking advantage you." It was a careful reply, but an honest one.

Vegeta snorted.

"Fool, no one takes advantage of me."

"Is that a challenge?" he asked, smirking courageously.

"Maybe," the elite replied returning the smirk, but his face grew thoughtful. "Mind reading?" he asked, "I.." this was an awkward subject, "I didn't think Saiyan bonds worked this way. But perhaps I was wrong—

_No, you weren't wrong. Namekian bonds work this way though._

A look of pure confusion crossed the Saiyan's face.

"Did you just say something to me, telepathically?

Piccolo nodded.

"It's odd, I could barely sense it. Could you do it again?"

"Sure."

Vegeta's eyes widened in amazement as the voice began speaking through him. It was Piccolo's deep rumbling bass, but it was different somehow, more textured. He could feel its warm solidarity. His stomach suddenly flip flopped. He liked it…a lot. When the voice ceased, he felt a slight loss.

"Did you get all that?" the Namek asked out loud.

"Yes," the prince answered, "I've never had someone speak in my head like that, I thought for a second it was my imagination, but words can't describe it," He shrugged, "I guess this is still too new. You'll have to teach me how to reply, I'm unschooled in telepathy."

"We'll work on it later," Piccolo promised, extremely pleased that Vegeta was amiable towards the situation. "Let's speak out loud for now. Besides your thoughts give me a headache."

He threw off his weighted cape and turban to relieve the building pressure in his head. The sofa beckoned to him so he moved to it and plopped down, stretching his limbs. This seemed to help slightly and he settled himself more into the cushions.

Vegeta watched him closely, he thought he looked better without the damn cape and turban anyway. He shook the thought. Now he was paranoid. He looked at the lounging Namekian warrior. He didn't seem to be reading his mind, well didn't act like it anyway. No, Piccolo said he wouldn't do it again and he'd stick to his word.

The Saiyan settled into a nearby chair. Food was brought and within a matter of moments quickly devoured.

Piccolo finally spoke.

"So you saw Billy."

Vegeta grunted in response, he honestly didn't want to talk about it.

"I tried to warn you, ah well, you were going to have to see him eventually." He closed his eyes and rolled his neck, having trouble shaking the pain that was throbbing in his head. He made a mental note to himself that mind reading caused headaches, incredibly nasty headaches.

He suddenly felt strong hands rest on his shoulders, he tensed up being unaccustomed to physical contact.

"Just relax." A warm breath in his ear.

After a second's hesitation, he willed himself to unwind beneath the Saiyan's touch letting out a deep breath in the process.

Slowly the hands started to knead the muscles that corded over his shoulders and ran up his neck. Soft fingertips made their way up to the base of his skull, gently rotating. The pain behind his eyes ebbed, relief and pleasure quickly overtaking its place. For the first time in his life, he fully let go of all his doubts and worries and let the prince have full control.

"See, it's not so bad, is it?"

"Shhh...less talk more rub."

A quiet chuckle.

The motions of the Saiyan's hands deepened with pressure. He moved with fluid strokes up and down the Namek's neck. However, he was standing behind him, the couch was preventing him from reaching more areas. So he made a quick decision.

Piccolo felt Vegeta's fingers leave him. He nearly protested, but he felt a weight straddle his rib cage. He cracked open an eye. The Prince was sitting on top of him, looking down at him with interest.

Gingerly, Vegeta placed his hands back on his shoulders and began his ministrations once more. Yet, this time he let his finger's trail down the Namekian's chest. Damn, but he was built. This defiantly wasn't a human female, which was what he was accustomed to. No soft curves here, only sharp, hard lines. A thrill ran through him as he continued his explorations. Two nights ago had been his first encounter with a male, and it had been mind blowing. He was eager to repeat the experience.

His touch ventured up to the side of the green man's neck to his face. His fingertips suddenly grew light as they experimentally traced his ears. Piccolo shuddered beneath him but otherwise didn't stir from his place. Encouraged, Vegeta continued with his tentative touches. It was when he reached the antennas that he got the greatest response. He felt more than heard Piccolo moan when he let his fingers dance lightly across the appendages. The sound went straight through him. Hoping to hear it again, he leaned forward and let the tip of his tongue flick across one of them. He felt the man beneath him hold his breath. Gently, he wrapped his mouth around the slender antenna and sucked lightly.

Piccolo nearly came off of the couch. His manhood instantly sprung to life and he unexpectedly bucked under the prince, nearly throwing him off. Vegeta grabbed the side of the sofa to steady himself. Black eyes met.

"So, Namek's have their weak spots too, eh?" he asked wearing a crafty smile.

"Guess so," he replied, returning the sly smirk.

Vegeta cupped the Namek's face in his hands and stared at him intently. He leaned forward towards the green warrior, their eyes locked. Their lips brushed together tentively, before the taller man leaned up melding them together with more conviction. The Saiyan's tongue snaked out of his mouth and brushed the Namek's lips, begging for entry. Piccolo was more than happy to comply.

The elite's tongue slowly began its quest into the depths of his companion's mouth, gently caressing the pallet then moving up to line the teeth...

Sharp!

Vegeta's tongue grazed one of Piccolo's canines. The Namek seemed to enjoy the taste of Saiyan blood as his own tongue started to move more boldly within his lover's mouth, drowning out the tiny exclamation of his smaller lover. One of his hands moved to the prince's back and under his shirt moving lower and lower on his back until he found the sensitive tail spot. Quickly he found it and began to sweetly torment the prince. Vegeta broke the kiss with a moan, and began rocking on the Namek's chest mindlessly.

After a time, he more or less regained control over himself and leaned forward. Two could play at this game. The Saiyan's tongue darted out again and fleetly went for the Namek's antenna. Piccolo bit his bottom lip, nearly screaming out in ecstasy. His breath left him in heavy pants; this was driving him insane! So to up the ante' with his free hand he reached down to the front of Vegeta's pants and started to pet his all ready hard member through the front of his jeans.

The Prince's eyes rolled into the back of his head and groaning he rocked in the younger man's grasp between the two sensations. His sucking became more forceful and Piccolo, despite his best efforts, moaned deep in his throat. It took everything he had to keep from throwing the Saiyan on the floor and taking him right there. Vegeta was in the same state, his hands twisted in the other warrior's gi, preparing to rip it from him in one fluid movement.

Piccolo's eyes snapped open.

"Vegeta, stop."

An incoherent grunt was his reply.

"No, really. Stop. Someone's coming."

Vegeta's eyes, that were half-lidded, open slightly more. He removed his mouth from the Namek's antenna only for a moment to speak and then resumed his task.

"Use your mind trick thing and tell them to go away."

Piccolo gave a slight cry, enjoying the Prince's tongue. He didn't want this to end, but didn't want to get caught either.

"Now wouldn't be a good time to open my mind to anyone else."

Vegeta groaned, he didn't want to stop. Suddenly he felt a familiar ki, and a distressed one at that.

He snapped to attention and then grumbled.

"Damn kid. I wonder what he wants. I saw him not 4 hours ago."

Piccolo sat up, sliding Vegeta more into his lap.

"I don't know, but his ki level is sky high."

Vegeta nodded, "We'll have to continue this later." He lightly kissed the Namek, "But not too much later."

The green man's only reply was a non-committal grunt.

They got themselves more or less presentable, and just in time too. Outside the door they could hear Trunks' frantic voice demanding to know where his father was.

"Where's my dad? I need to talk to him right now!"

Dende's voice was of soothing comfort.

"Just a moment, I'll go get your father."

But there was no need for the young guardian to summon the prince, for he had already emerged from the large room. Piccolo motioned to Dende and suggested that they depart for the time being and leave the Saiyan and his son alone for a while. The younger Namek had whole heartedly agreed and the two vanished to another part of the compound.

Wasting no time, Trunks ran towards his, rather annoyed, father. Vegeta put a hand in front of him.

"Stop."

The child halted.

Vegeta eyed his only son. He wasn't on fire or bleeding profusely, which he felt should be the only excuses for his interruption. No, the child was in perfect health. In a rather gruff voice,

"What's the matter?"

The lavender-haired boy took a deep breath.

"I ran away from home."

"So I've gathered. Now why?"

A look of hostility crossed the young boy's face.

"I hate them! I don't want to live there anymore! I want to live with you."

Vegeta shook his head and sighed deeply, life had become too dramatic for his liking.

"Trunks, just because you don't like a situation—

"Mom said I can't train anymore!"

"What!"

Trunks nodded his head and crossed his arms, pleased he had finally gotten his father's full attention. He began explaining the predicament but he was speaking so fast he could hardly be understood. The Saiyan Prince had to stop him and make him start again more slowly. This seemed to fluster the boy, but he apologized and began again.

"I said I overheard Mom and Billy talking. They were saying mean things about you, well Billy was more than anything. So I ran into the room and told Billy to shut his damn mouth and mom scolded me for swearing. Then he said that I should leave the room, that I had nothing to do with what they were talking about. I said that I didn't have to do anything that he said, that he wasn't my dad, that he was the reason you and mom broke up in the first place. Well that made him mad. He said that I did have to listen to him because he was going to be my dad from now on..." he pondered here for a moment, trying to recall the exact words, "a real father who knew b **how /b **to care for his family. Then he said that the real reason mom wanted you gone was because you...you...," his small fists clenched with rage, "were a evil hate-filled person who only cared about himself. 'A cold hearted bastard who should have known when to stay dead.' "

Vegeta's face didn't alter any, his black eyes stayed unwavering on his son. Trunks', on the other hand, voice got incredibly cold.

"That made me real angry, so I…I..." He grew silent, his blue eyes sought the ground.

"What did you do, son?"

The half-Saiyan took his time answering.

"I hit him, dad. I hit him hard."

Vegeta closed his onyx eyes and shook his head very slowly. This was too much. A single hit from an angry Saiyan, even one from a child, would be enough to kill a human ten times over. Just when he thought everything was going right...Life wasn't meant to be so complicated. Maybe he should have left the planet, maybe life would have been easier for everyone if he had. A sea of doubts flooded his mind with a fury so great it made him sick. The world seem to spin behind his shut lids. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt a soothing presence emerge, urging him to stay strong. Vegeta felt his heart warm towards the Namekian, grateful that even though he wasn't right next to him he was still with him.

In a soft voice,

"Did you kill him?"

Trunks shook his head.

"No, I wish I would have." He stuck his head up defiantly, "I only managed to break a few bones, I was at a bad angle. I started to walk towards him to finish it, but Mom got in the way. She was really upset, she screamed at me. She said that I looked like you... when you first came to Earth... that I looked like a monster. She said I would never ever fight again not even to train. She said my Saiyan blood had gotten the better of me, and that this was all your fault. When she said that I screamed at her and ran away." He shook his head and his voice became defensive.

"But I was only defending your name. He deserved to die for what he said. I hate him! I hate them both! I want them to die! I'll kill them myself!"

Vegeta watched his son in horror. He no longer looked like the nine year old rambunctious kid he had seen earlier that day. His face was painted in blood thirsty rage. His whole demeanor screamed murder. Vegeta felt his stomach tightening in knots with each word the child let fly from his mouth. He dropped to his son's level and looked him dead in the eye.

"You don't mean that."

Tears of anger and hate were hanging in the boy's eyes.

"Yes I do! I mean it! They should die for what they've done. I'm going to kill them, you just watch, I will, I swear it!" his voice had become crazed at this point.

The Prince shook his son firmly. The boy had managed to alarm the Saiyan, deeply.

"No you don't. You don't mean that, Trunks!" his voice raised with every word, "Don't you EVER speak that way!" He got right in the boy's face, his tone slipping from a stern pitch to a frantic yell, "Do you understand? I NEVER want to hear you say anything like that EVER AGAIN!"

The boy blinked in shock.

Trunks, taking his father's frantic tone as one of anger, began to cry uncontrollably. He slumped to his knees, sobbing so hard he was making himself sick.

Vegeta watched him through glass eyes, still trying to get a handle on what he had just heard.


	15. Chapter 15 Seeds of the Past

Chapter Fifteen: Seeds of the Past

Scooping the child up, the Saiyan Elite carried his son to the room he had been sleeping in. He placed the youth on the bed and sat beside him, waiting for him to get control of himself.

But apparently, Trunks was taking his sweet time for his sobs weren't dying down any.

Finally, the prince lost his patience and spoke.

"Stop crying."

A few choking sounds.

"But you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you."

"But you yelled at me."

"You scared me," he said flatly. "I've never heard you speak like that before."

Trunks sat up, his head feeling groggy from all of his crying.

"I...I didn't mean it. He just made me really really angry." He swiped his arm across his face in an attempt to scrub the tears away, "I've never been that angry before in my whole life. I wanted to make him sorry for what he said." He hung his head and fiddled with a snap on his jacket before taking a deep breath. "I don't like him, but I don't want Billy to die. And I never wanted anything bad to happen to mom."

Vegeta nodded, remarkably relieved by this.

"Saiyan rage. I need to teach you how to control it." He stood up. "You're going to sleep here tonight. I suppose I should let your mother know where you are."

Trunks, however, reached over and grabbed his father's wrist.

"So you're not angry with me?"

A sigh, "I'm disappointed in you, Trunks. You shouldn't hit people who can't defend themselves, no matter how much they may deserve it. But no," he admitted, "I'm not angry with you."

He turned to leave but Trunks voice stopped him once more;

"You didn't mean that dad, did you? About you being scared. Nothing scares you, right?"

The prince looked over his shoulder.

"I wish that were true. But yes you did scare me, I was afraid you were turning into..." he trailed off.

The boy looked up at him questionably.

"Turning into what?"

Vegeta shook his head. Finally,

"Me."

Trunks eyes narrowed in confusion but then he smiled, "But you're great! I want to be just like you when I get older. You're the coolest person in the universe."

Vegeta sat back down. He had wondered when he was going to have this conversation with his son. It wasn't something he was looking forward to, but it had to be done and considering the circumstances now was the best time.

"Me, as in how I used to be, son. You've been told that I wasn't always the way I am now. I've done some bad things in my life."

The boy was unperturbed. "Yeah, but you worked for a tyrant. He's the one who made you do those things, it wasn't your fault."

Vegeta gave his son a sad smile.

"That's not entirely true, I'm afraid. Yes, I worked unwilling for a sociopath and yes I followed orders because if I didn't I would have been killed. It wasn't just my life that was a stake, either," he added. "He had considerable leverage over me. My future empire, Vegetasei, was under his thumb. I wasn't about to anger him. I didn't want to disappoint my father either." He paused here as the memories of a life long past flashed before his eyes. "He sent me to Frieza's base for training to become the best of warriors. At least that's what I was told."

Trunks hung on every word, it wasn't often his father spoke of his past. The prince continued, "But in the long run it didn't matter. My father was laid to waste along with my planet. They said it was a meteor shower, but I knew better." He halted, wrestling with his thoughts, "Frieza destroyed them all. I swore someday that I'd have my revenge. But thoughts of vengeance gave away to the conquest of power." He paused again, not quite sure he wanted to tell his son this. "I…I enjoyed my work. Saiyans, by nature, are a war-faring race." He stopped, no, he wasn't going to make excuses, "I did horrible things not because I was told to, but because I wanted to." That wasn't an easy confession, but it was the truth, "And after a time, Frieza didn't have to tell me what to do anymore, I did it on my own accord."

"Did you hurt people, Dad? People who couldn't defend themselves?" Trunks asked softly.

Vegeta nodded.

"Yes." He said truthfully, "I hurt a lot of people, Trunks. You're mother was right, I was a monster. I'm not proud of it, but it's true." He smoothed the lavender hair out of his child's eyes. "I have a lot of regrets in my life, Trunks, but you're one of the few things I've managed to do right. I've tried to make sure that you never have to grow up in environment like I had to when I was your age. I wanted to make sure that you never turn into the heartless soldier I once was... that you would turn into something better than me." He paused, looking his son in the eye.

"So do you understand now where I was coming from?"

Trunks nodded, he had a billion question he wanted to ask, but exhaustion was setting it. Today had been rather traumatic for him. His eyelids became heavy. Vegeta sensed this.

"You go to sleep now, we'll worry about the rest of this tomorrow, okay?"

Trunks nodded, within a few seconds he fell into a deep sleep. The prince watched him for a time, then he quietly exited the room. Dende walked by inquiring if everything was well. Vegeta replied the affirmative, and asked if he could deliver a message to the boy's mother. Dende was happy to do so and wished him a good night.

Vegeta waited until the young guardian had completely disappeared from site before making his way down the spacious halls of the Lookout. He soon neared a door he had never entered before. The Saiyan raised a hand to knock, but the door soundlessly swung open. He stepped inside.

The room wasn't as big as he thought it should be, but wasn't as small as he expected it to be either. There wasn't much furniture, a large bed in the center of the room, a table in one corner, a chest in the other, and along the back wall an overstuffed chair that the Namek was currently sitting in. He had his eyes closed and looked like he was in a deep meditative state. The door suddenly shut behind him. Vegeta repressed the urge to be startled by it reminding himself that Piccolo was telekinetic.

Although the Saiyan Prince was a much more powerful warrior, Piccolo had a wider variety of abilities. Vegeta often wondered if that was the reason he never felt jealous of Goku or himself. The tall warrior opened his dark eyes and studied the elite standing before him.

"Is everything all right?"

Vegeta simply placed two fingers on his temple.

"It would be easier this way."

The green man nodded and closed his eyes, pleased Vegeta was allowing him to read his mind. He searched the prince's thoughts. It was jumbled, but he could make out what had occurred and feel the Saiyan's emotional reaction to all of it. He sighed deeply, things were getting too complicated for his liking. But he wasn't going to let that deter him for a minute. He stood up.

"Trunks can stay here for as long as he likes, I have no problems with it."

Vegeta inclined his head in thanks.

"He nearly killed the bastard. Heh, part of me was proud of him. Can you believe it? I think that's what disturbed me the most."

Piccolo nodded, "Believe it and understand it. To this day I still have the urge to randomly blast things, be it buildings or living people it makes no difference." He shrugged, "I'd never act on it, but it still resides within me. It is disturbing, but you have to accept it as a part of yourself. You can't annihilate the darker side of your nature; you're a fool if you try."

"Oh, I fully agree. But I don't want it reflecting in my son."

The Namek smirked, "Yes, I can't stand to think of two of **you** running around. That would be horrible."

Vegeta grinned, he moved to the bed and plopped down, giving the Namek and inviting smile.

Piccolo chuckled.

"I just read your mind and I know you've got too much going through that pointy head of yours too see straight, little alone do anything else."

Vegeta gave a disappointed sigh, laid back, and closed his eyes. The Namek was right, he did have too much on his mind. He had been eager, however, to finish where they had left off.

He felt someone move onto the bed next to him. Fingers brushed through his hair, the prince smiled slightly, savoring the sensations it gave him.

"Soon enough," the deep bass ghosted across his ear, "But when I have you again I want your undivided attention."

"And you'll have it."

"I had better."

Vegeta chuckled. Luckily, despite Piccolo's sparse taste he had a rather large bed. The two of them fit nicely upon it and had room to spare. In a daring move he toed off his boots and sat up and threw his shirt off. It landed in a nice little pile on the floor.

"Well just make yourself at home."

"I think I just did." And with that the Saiyan curled up into the—slightly taken aback— larger warrior's chest.

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Piccolo turned out the lights with a mental switch and wrapped an arm around the Saiyan at his side. A feeling of warm comfort settled upon them both and it wasn't long before sleep claimed them in quiet reprieve.

A/N: Right, I know this is a bit OOC but like I said it was my first piece of fanfiction. Anyway thank you's are in order for all who reviewed. Thanks! and again a special thanks to Pixelgoddess for beta'ing this and most of my other fics.


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